CIM
by ululate
Summary: When a new girl moves into Kyuoko's territory, her first instinct is to drive them away, but a mysterious clairvoyant has plans for her city as well, and the nightmares that they fight keep getting stronger. Rationalist inspired, but I'm not sure I'm quite good enough to properly call this a "rationalist fanfiction" Fairly major AU set between the tv show and MM:Rebellion.
1. Prologue

**Prologue: when the light goes out**

"Biggest Midwestern storm in a century…"

"Like an inland hurricane…"

"Streets are flooded, Tom, businesses are evacuating the lower floors…"

"Not a storm! Some kind of…"

"Bah," the creature roars, a great, spindly, mass of brackish blood and tarnished brass, towering over the skyscrapers. "Bah," it says again, and the sky fractures. Rain sheets around it like a thick grey quilt and storm clouds churn overhead, rent by roaring bands of lightning whenever the nightmare speaks its word.

A building crumbles under the blow of one long, spidery limb, and the horrible, barbed monster strikes down every creature it sees with a kind of casual disdain.

People run, try to escape the storm-wracked city, but the nightmares' glinting, brass tendrils are waiting to snatch people off the waterlogged streets.

The police tries to fight it of course, and later the military tries too, but their bullets seem to have no effect, and the storm drags their aircraft from the sky, and dashes them against the city below. With every ineffectual attack, every terror-filled sob, it seems to get stronger. Barbed tendrils of brass and blood invade more of the battered city, and the hurricane gale waxes stronger. It shatters one great building after another, ropey sinews hurl skyscrapers like titanic javelins, and the artifices of man disintegrate under its senseless rage like so many match sticks.

But then, a light atop one of the ruined buildings. A girl stands before the nightmare, straight and unblemished amidst the mangled bodies. She is an inconsequential speck beside its vast bulk- young too, or short. She wears a hooded red sweatshirt and blank white mask over a simple, but elegant, silk dress. Of course, no dress looks all that elegant coupled with a hoodie. Her hair is long and straight, red, but dyed a cheerful electric blue at the ends. No one watching the news that day recognizes her.

The great beast blinks its thousand eyes, and peers down at her. No one can say what happens in its alien consciousness, as it stands there, contemplating that one little girl, but it only pauses for a moment.

A single, barbed, tendril stretches out, and swats at her experimentally. In a flash of bright flame, the limb is gone and the nightmare attacks in earnest. "Bah," it says, but the lightning meets a solid wall of flame. For a moment, everything seems to hang still as fire meets-and bests- lightning, but then the wall breaks, and the flames gutter and flicker feebly. The lightning is spent, but so are the flames, And an avalanche of twisted flesh and tarnished brass reaches for the girl, straining to rend and tear and impale, like it has done to so many others that day, and she is burning it away, but for every terrible protrusion that she destroys, she misses a dozen more. Soon, she is buried beneath thrashing brass and oozing gore- after all, what can one person do in the face of such elemental fury? The flames go out.

 **AN: In my opinion, stories should be able to stand up on their own, with little or no need for an author's note. In that, I believe I have failed spectacularly, so... sorry? This was intended as a prologue, but doesn't let people put up "chapters" without marking them as "chapter 1, 2, etc." Anyway, that's going to throw off the formatting for the whole story, but this is one of the few times that I think a prologue actually adds something to the story, so I've decided to just put up with it.**

 **Also, I intended to set this somewhere between the events of the tv show, and mm: rebellion, but then I started changing things around to make the world a bit more sensical, then backstories started changing to work better with the new world, and now its basically an AU? Not sure how that happened?**

 **On a less self-deprecating apologetic note, a review would be greatly appreciated; I'm writing this because I love writing. I'm posting it here because I want to know how to improve. Even if you decide not to keep reading, letting me know why would help me to be better in the future. Of course, follow/favorites/positive reviews are awfully encouraging, so the more I get, the faster the next chapter will come out :P**

 **(they also remind me that this fic exists...)**


	2. Chapter one

**Chapter one: three men upon a hill do hang**

Sayaka is slender and whipy, like a willow branch. She looks to be in her early teens, but she is a freshman in college. Her fans say she just "has one of those young faces," and her friends joke that she skipped a few grades, but neither group is right.

Her hair is too blue to be properly black, and silky too. When she was a child, her parents wondered at her startlingly azure head of hair, but the doctors said it was nothing to worry about, and they eventually forgot that her hair had been dark like coal when she was born. What the doctors never mentioned was that, genetically, the blue-haired baby they brought home from the hospital wasn't their child at all, even though the nurses were absolutely certain there wasn't a mixup.

Sayaka herself, was the only one who ever realized that her left eye was a few shades lighter than her right.

When she was five years old, and just learning to write, she would write her name with an exclamation mark at the end "Sayaka Miki!" because she thought it made her name sound more exciting- she always hated how generic her name sounded. Still does hate her name, for that matter. When she was seven, she froze the family dog. "He looked hot," was her explanation, when questioned about it later. Her parents couldn't figure out how she did it; the dog was an enormous German Shepherd, and wouldn't have fit in the freezer. Sayaka had always been sickly and small anyway, and there was no way she could have lifted the dog, let alone the massive lump of ice he was frozen in. That was when they began to suspect there was something different about Sayaka, but she was their daughter, and they loved her. The next month, it snowed. It was July. The Miki family lived in Arizona. That was when they started fighting; brutal, hateful, affairs that usually ended with violence towards one or the other. They never involved Sayaka, and their arguments quieted, or died down entirely, whenever she was around, but she still heard them when her parents thought she was asleep.

They moved north, but the evidence continued to mount, and they explained to her that most people couldn't do what she could. Sayaka reassured them that she wouldn't use magic again, though that wasn't what they had asked. If she ever did, they didn't notice, but they never forgot that she could. By the time that she was ten, her name had lost its exclamation mark. Now it was just plain "Sayaka Miki."

When she was fifteen, a man attacked her, yelling only "my city, my city," over and over again. She told the police she didn't want to press charges, which was just as well, since they couldn't find the man anyway.

When she was sixteen, her parents wondered about her continued juvenile appearance, but they agreed it was best not to ask about it.

When she was seventeen, her mother found a wand in her room. Her mother never mentioned it to anyone. When Sayaka was eighteen, almost nineteen, she went to college.

But none of that says anything about who she is.

She isn't shy, but she never approaches anyone first. All of her friends think she is the most innocent person they've ever met, but her language is foul, especially around them. She is rarely happy, but always smiling. The type of person that has few friends, but everyone likes anyway.

When she was in preschool, she bit a young boy- William Coyne- because he said she was strange. They have been friends ever since. When she was in elementary school, three of her classmates proposed to her. William was grounded for three days for fighting. The children's parents said "aah, how sweet," and promptly forgot about it. Later that year, in a play date arranged by their worried parents, a girl named Jennifer Knox mentioned that she liked snow, and complained that it NEVER snows in Arizona. Sayaka promised to "take care of it," and they've been friends ever since.

Both of Sayaka's friends moved north with her. Her life just seems to work out like that sometimes.

In middle school, she started singing; never the same thing twice, and never something that anyone had heard anywhere else. Her parents bought recording equipment, and convinced her to put her songs online. They were horrified to realize that she sang at school too, and they would never get to hear those lost songs.

If Sayaka was well-liked before, she was a celebrity now; each of her songs got millions of views, but if she noticed, she gave no sign of it. In high school, she turned down a recording contract, but agreed to sing at a number of bars. Her parents encouraged her to put the proceeds in the bank. Instead, she gave it to charity, and said she spent it all on clothes. If her parents ever learned the truth, they didn't mention it.

At one of her gigs, a classmate, "Mike. Just Mike," leapt on stage, and professed his love. William was in jail overnight for assault. The next day at school, Sayaka dragged her two person posse over to Mike's lunch table, and it was final. He was one of her few friends. Somehow, everyone understood that, in adding him to her "in group," Sayaka was subtly, but firmly, turning him down. Her life just seems to work out like that sometimes.

She only had three friends when she went to college, but it surprised no one when they moved to Seattle and enrolled in the same college as her.

It wouldn't be correct to say that Sayaka was popular in any of her schools. Popularity implies conflict; the jocks love, but secretly envy, the popular people, the nerds hate, but secretly adore them. Sayaka was not popular, because everyone loved her. Her three friends were, not unpopular, but not high on the social ladder before meeting her. Once they became her friends though, they were at the top. Her friends were popular. It was wholly unsurprising that the same would be true at college.

Anytime someone approached her, Sayaka was perfectly polite, unfailingly cheerful, ceaselessly compassionate. People always followed her to the bars she sung at, and she would always tell the barista to take the price of their drinks out of her pay. Her three friends always paid for their own drinks. It was rumored that she didn't know how to say no, but she always turned down dates and refused recording contracts.

That is who she is. Kind cheerful playful foul-mouthed generous loved unhappy.

This is how Sayaka finds herself at the bar "Golgotha." She has never sung here before, but she rarely refuses when asked nicely, so here she is, getting up on stage in her tight beige sweater, too blue hair hanging loosely around her shoulders and down to her waist, since she never cuts it. She walks stiffly, and there are bags under her eyes, but then, she's always been sickly.

The bar is packed, but that's not what draws her attention. It's well lit, but somehow it gives the impression of deep shadows and hidden secrets. Little blue lanterns float overhead- Sayaka wonders how that was managed. Fishing twine, probably. Though she can work spells of her own, she doesn't suspect magic in Golgotha's decoration- years of cynicism built up by roadside attractions and state fair fortune tellers. The counter has maybe a dozen stools- intricate columns of curving, elaborately spiraling, metal- but close to thirty of her classmates stand there so she smiles brightly at them. Each of the tables is ringed by a seemingly random number of low, plush, armchairs, and each has a single candle burning in the center. Occasionally, the smoke curls into an almost-distinct shape.

The wall behind the bar is covered in hundreds of bottles of unusual shapes, and filled with oddly colored liquids. The menu offers things like "dream elixir," "purple," and "flagon of lost memories." None of the usual "Apple-tinis" and "manhattans." No beer listings, and nothing on the rocks. Several of her classmates stare down at their drinks, confusion written plainly on their almost adult faces, but the tables are mostly filled with regulars and they drink their "purple" without concern. Sayaka supposes it's an aesthetic.

"Hi Golgotha," she says brightly. "My name is Sayaka Miki, and I'm here to sing you a few songs." No exclamation point on her name.

Her classmates cheer. Some yell "we love you Sayaka!" Some of the regulars do too, but not all. By the end of the night, it's all. Her music is flowing and ethereal, like an artistic bridge seen from a distance in a hard rain. It goes without saying that no one has ever heard it before. If it weren't for her fans' cell phones, no one ever would again. She doesn't mind either way.

When the bar closes, the owner walks up to the stage. Sayaka supposes she intends to pay her.

The owner- her name is Kyuoko- is of middling height. A flame-haired beauty of perhaps twenty. Sayaka feels suddenly self-conscious and underdeveloped beside her. Kyuoko wears an odd, leather bracer on her right arm, a midriff-baring halter top and knee length skirt. Sayaka can see a number of odd, clear gemstones glowing along her spine.

"Please leave," Kyuoko says, almost shyly.

"What?" Sayaka asks, not loudly, but boldly beside the other woman's quiet.

"My city," Kyuoko mumbles. "Um. It's my city. Please leave? Here's your money." She passes over a roll of cash. Sayaka doesn't care enough to count it.

"Eep?" Sayaka says.

"Look, I don't like fighting," Kyuoko says. "I have to sometimes, and I'm pretty good at it, but I don't like to, so please leave? It's my city…"

"I live here," Sayaka replies. "I go to school here." Sayaka leaves the building because she doesn't know what else to do, but she has no intention of leaving the city.

Her friends meet her outside. Just the three of them, not the horde that follows her around sometimes. Twin braziers of green flame flicker flamboyantly on either side of Golgotha's heavy oak door.

Mike throws his arm around her narrow shoulders, almost as if he thinks she won't notice, but she ducks out from beneath his arm.

"Fuck off Mike," she says. "What'd you drink?"

"Purple," he replies. "Never again."

They walk back towards their college. It's only a few blocks. William talks endlessly about his plans for an upcoming essay, and one of the other three sometimes chimes in when social protocol demands a response. Jennifer rests her arms on Sayaka's head and plays with her hair. Sayaka swats at her friend, but doesn't care enough to do anything more effective.

It is times like this, that Sayaka wonders if her friends care that she is the undeniable nexus of their group.

They agree, after a short discussion, that the night is still young, and so, meet in one of the school's many common rooms. Sayaka rarely invites anyone into her apartment, and none of the other three has a loud enough personality to host.

It starts raining.

Someone kindles a fire in the room's cavernous, flagstone, fireplace. Probably Mike.

He sits closest to the fire, feet up just far enough from the cracklings and poppings to keep the rubber soles of his shoes from melting. He wears blue jeans- not the faded, ripped, sort of blue jeans popular amongst his peers, but crisp, good-as-new jeans. Sayaka suspects they would stand upright, even without his legs for support. A simple blue polo shirt tries to conceal the beginnings of a beer belly, and succeeds- barely. His eyes are closer together than is normal, and his face has just a little too much flesh on it, but he manages to be more attractive for it. He drinks. Sayaka does too, on occasion, but she holds it better than he does.

"Sorry about before," he says, without looking up from the fire. Every few months, he tries to make something more of their relationship. Sayaka always deflects his advances politely, but firmly.

"I accept your apology," she replies. Sayaka never says "it's ok," or "don't worry about it," it's always the insufferably formal "I accept your apology."

She's gotten a book from somewhere- a political sciences textbook, from the cover- and she's making a neat row of paper airplanes from the pages. It's her own book, from her last year of highschool, and her three friends know, or, at least, suspect. She's much too charitable to destroy anyone else's belongings. She is smiling because she always does.

William sits in the corner, tapping away at his laptop. He's a little on the short side, but slender, so few people really notice. He is studious, but he wears his shirt unbuttoned, and the one below it untucked, almost like he takes pleasure in defying expectations. Sayaka throws one of her planes at him, he throws it back, and soon, a war has developed. It ends when one of the projectiles hits Jennifer, and she drops the whole pile into the fire. The flames lick higher for a moment, then the paper is spent.

"Anyone hungry?" Jennifer asks, dropping down beside Sayaka once more. Jennifer is from a tropical island somewhere, or maybe her parents are? She only mentioned it once, back in middle school, and speaks without an accent, but her skin is darker and she wears a carved wooden charm at her neck. It has something written on it. In Hawaiian, if Sayaka had to guess. In middle school, Jennifer was known for attacking boys on the playground. In high school, she was known for attacking them in the bedroom.

"Pizza!" Sayaka exclaims, jumping up. She almost falls back onto the couch as her legs fail under the unexpected strain, but she catches the armrest at the last minute and she's moving again. "I've got cash. Who's got a phone?"

Sayaka likes pizza.

"Here," Jennifer says, throwing her phone to her friend. She's broken every generation of smartphone this way, but she always has a new one the next day, so it doesn't matter much to her.

By the time that the pizza arrives, Sayaka has completely forgotten about Kyuoko's odd behavior.

The two boys squabble briefly over the last slice of Italian sausage, though there are still two mostly untouched boxes, one barbecue chicken for Jennifer, one bell pepper and pepperoni for Sayaka. The disagreement is interrupted by a sharp crack of thunder. Sayaka offers the contested slice to a passing sophomore and the argument is settled.

"What the shit?" She says. It's phrased like a question, but it isn't one.

Mike shrugs apologetically. Sayaka is still smiling. William punches him lightly on the shoulder. Violence is William's primary method of interaction.

 **AN: so, I guess Kyuoko wound up a bit ooc... this was somewhat intentional for two reasons. First, I feel like she would act one of two ways toward a romantic interest... over the top sexual innuendos, and loud declarations, or not really know what to do about it. I picked the latter, on account of I don't think the former would work AT ALL with Sayaka... The second reason my Kyuoko acts a bit OOC is because her confident tough girl facade is very much a defense mechanism for what happened to her family. Both characters' backstories wound up changing quite a lot in order to fit with the alterations I've mentioned, so Kyuoko's family (in this story) was never killed by her unhinged father, ergo, she would act significantly different. I hope this doesn't bother anyone.**

 **Also, thankyou to my one follower. I had almost given up on this story for lack of reviews. This chapter got posted because of you. Smiley face sicker for you. If anyone else wants a smiley sticker, they will have to follow or favorite or review. That is how you win my love.**


	3. Chapter two

**Chapter two: on broken legs you shall dance**

Kyuoko was born in 1833, in the Shinano province, present day Nagano prefecture. Her family name is Sakura, so she introduces herself as Sakura Kyuoko. Like most of the children she grew up with, she was slim, and dark-haired. One of her eyes is a rich brown, like molten chocolate, the other is red. When she was younger, she would take pains to hide it by keeping her hair down and combed over that side of her face. Colored contacts work too, but they were invented too late to save her childhood.

The Sakuras were one of the leading families in the Shinano province and they expected Kyuoko to comport herself in a manner appropriate to their station. She dutifully learned the traditional tea ceremonies, wore the traditional kimono, and did not speak unless spoken to. No one her age was of a high enough station for it to be proper for her to play with- not that play was terribly proper to begin with- so she had no friends. The village children knew of her, of course, and saw her on occasion, but her parents' haughty intervention, and her own otherness kept them from making any serious attempt to approach her. Eventually, the feeling spread that she thought she was too good to interact with any of them, when in fact, she wanted nothing more than to join in their messy, muddy games.

Throughout Kyuoko's childhood, parents whispered of China's subjugation by the west, and worried that their beloved Japan would be next. Their children didn't understand most of what they said, but they understood the tones of fear well enough, and fear is contagious. It is one of humanity's greatest flaws that they fear the unknown, and to the village children, Kyuoko was unknown.

Soon, bad things started to happen to Kyuoko; never anything that could be conclusively linked back to the other children, but stray balls of mud in their endless mock wars would ruin her beautiful kimono, or she would be made to trip in crowded markets. She started going out less, which, of course, only exacerbated the problem, and that was when bad things started happening to the village children as well. Flammable wood and paper homes would mysteriously burn down in the night, cattle would be found dead.

In most mythologies, ill luck is blamed on witches. If milk goes bad, clearly a witch did it. If the family cow dies, witches. If your house burned down, the unpopular girl in the mansion on the hill seems a fine target. Another of humanity's flaws is that they feel some sort of pathological need to place blame, and if that blame makes them feel better about the less than charitable things they think, so much the better. The fact that they happened to be right did not mean that they had any evidence, and Japan had never been much for witch burnings, but a community can punish an outcast in different, crueler ways. Vendors refused to sell to the Sakura family, or else, would raise their prices to absurd levels, food would be delivered rotten, and their beautiful ancestral home would be vandalized. Of course, the vendors were always unfailingly polite; "so sorry," they would say "but we have run out for the day. Maybe next day we will have it?" The delivery men were always supremely apologetic; "so sorry, we'll make sure that doesn't happen again." The police were compassionate and understanding; "of course Sakura-Sama, we will do everything possible to catch the people who did this." But somehow, the courtesy only made the offense worse.

Kyuoko understood why the adults were worried, and she understood why that led to the children tormenting her; she had always been very bright, if a bit unhealthy. Even with that knowledge though, she was still just a child, so she used her magic- the magic she had kept a secret from everyone- to ruin the worst offenders. Later, when the town began to suspect her of witchcraft, and the torment worsened, she again understood, but somehow, that only made it worse.

In 1845, a mysterious young man visited their town. His clothes were well tailored and unpatched, if unremarkable, but he claimed to have no money, and he went directly to the Sakura's ancient home. He asked simply for a place to stay, and a hot meal. At first, the senior Sakuras refused, but he repeated the request, and they agreed without further argument. At dinner, he asked to be left alone with Kyuoko, who, of course, had not spoken yet that meal, since no one had thought to talk to her.

At first, her parents were scandalized; he wants to be left alone with their twelve year old daughter? But he repeated the request, and they left.

"Kyuoko-chan," he said, once they were alone, though he had never been introduced. "You're special. My name is Kohara," he doesn't say whether that is his given name, or his family name. "I can teach you how to be more special. I can teach you how to make people love you, and how to fly, and how to change your shape, and a thousand other things, but there are monsters in the world. The only thing I ask in return for teaching you everything I know, is your help stopping them from hurting innocent people."

Kyuoko didn't doubt that his words were true; she could burn things, after all, and he could make her family agree to anything. "Kohara-Sensei," she replied, always looking down demurely, "what of my parents? Will you teach me here, or will I have to come with you?"

"They are not your parents," he said, refilling his plate as if he owned the home. Kyuoko is startled to see that he has left his shoes on. "If you have a parent, it is the Other One, but I can teach you here if you prefer."

She resolved to ask about the Other One, and her parents, later. She agreed before he could change his mind though, and he asked if he should invite her parents back in. She did not answer, because no one had ever given her a choice like that, so he called out, and her parents to returned.

"Your daughter is sick, Sakura-San," he said, once they were kneeling beside the low table again. "I'm sure you've noticed; she's been sick a while. Fortunately, I'm a doctor. I can help make her well again, if you're willing. I ask only for room and board in payment." He repeats the offer, and her parents agree immediately.

Over the next several weeks, Kyuoko lost her unhealthy pallor and, for the first time ever, was walking without a limp. Her horrible, rasping cough disappeared overnight, and she developed a ravenous appetite where previously, she had to be convinced to eat, and often forgot meals.

The elder Sakuras congratulated each other on their good sense in hiring such a good doctor- and so cheap, too!

 **AN: Another smiley sticker for my one follower.**


	4. Chapter three

**Chapter three:** **a smile hides a broken heart**

One week after Sayaka sang at Golgotha, Kyuoko knocks on her door. Sayaka's apartment is on the third floor, opening into an enclosed hallway. It is small, only a half-separated living room and bedroom with a tiny bathroom tacked onto the side almost as an afterthought. There isn't a closet, but Sayaka doesn't have many clothes anyway. She keeps the lights off or low to save on electricity, and keeps the single window covered to save on heating. She keeps the apartment warm though. Uncomfortably so. It helps to keep her powers under control, and to mitigate the collateral if she makes a mistake.

Sayaka likes good food. Her refrigerator is always full, but not with frozen microwaveable meals. Rather than pizza crust, she keeps flour and garlic. Rather than tomato sauce, she keeps ripe tomatoes. Her spices alone take up three full shelves in her cabinet. She is the sort of person that likes to focus on only a few activities, but those, she throws herself into wholly. Most nights, after classes let out, and after her few friends tire, she spends hours preparing her dinner, and that is what she is doing when Kyuoko delivers her sharp knock; cooking a lovely batch of vanilla cream tarts.

She crosses the room, makes herself smile, though she doesn't really feel like it, and opens the door. There Kyuoko stands, wearing the same odd leather brace, a tight red tank top, and scandalously short shorts.

"Sayaka-Chan," Kyuoko says quietly, eyes downcast, "I'm sorry. You don't have to leave. It's your city too. I'm sorry."

Sayaka wonders how such a shy person can stand to wear such revealing clothing. "Um." She says, frowning. "You'd better come in." She does this more so she can check on the vanilla tarts, than from any sort of politeness, but she would have probably made the same offer even if she wasn't worried about the milk burning. Kyuoko nods tersely, removes her shoes, and stands awkwardly by the door.

"Sit wherever you like," Sayaka says. She takes the tarts from the oven, and places them on the counter to cool. She drops down into the couch, leaving her favorite arm chair for Kyuoko. Kyuoko sits carefully. "So." Sayaka says. "What is going on? Is this going to be like one of those urban fantasy novels where you say 'I can't tell you anything; it's too dangerous,' then I have to try to figure everything out on my own, and my life will be perpetually in danger, and I'll figure it all out at the last moment, and save the world because I figured out something you could say right now?"

"Um." Kyuoko replies, fidgeting. "No. I don't think so? That wouldn't make very much sense."

"Good." Sayaka says. "So what's going on?"

"You can use magic." Kyuoko twists her hair between her slender fingers. "I uh, guess you might have figured that out. And I can use magic too, which you probably also figured out, and there are nightmares and we fight them?" She trails off uncomfortably, staring intently at a point six inches to the left of Sayaka's head.

"Nightmares?" Sayaka prompts. She puts a kettle of tea on the stove to boil.

"Yeah," Kyuoko nods. "Um." She adjusts the hem of her shirt. "So, magic is entirely mental… Or maybe emotional… But you knew that too?"

"No." Says Sayaka. "I didn't."

Kyuoko frowns absently and says, "oh, um. So we use magic by really wanting something to happen, right? Like a wish. Then it just, sort of happens? I mean, you can train yourself to do something new with your magic, but there aren't any 'magical words' or whatever. It's just all about the force of your mind."

"How does that work?" Sayaka asks, drizzling creme fraiche and brandied cherries over the tarts. Of course, she had made both herself. "Why would the universe care what we want?"

"I, uh, don't actually know…" Kyuoko shrugs. "Anyway, um. Humans kindof have magic too. Maybe that means there's something about brains that puts out some kind of energy or something that we can't detect yet? I don't know? Anyway. So, humans can kinda use magic too. Not in the same way that we can; they can't make fire or anything- that's what I do by the way- but their dreams and unspoken desires sometimes, if they're vivid enough, manifest as half-aware physical representations. Like if someone really really wants to go kill someone else, they might accidentally make some kind of independent murder idea… Like a platonic form, but real."

"Wait," Sayaka asks, carrying over the tarts and offering one to her guest. "You've read Plato?"

"I've read everything," Kyuoko says, accepting the offered desert so she doesn't have to look at Sayaka.

"Oh." Sayaka says, surprised. "Alright. Go on."

"This is really good," Kyuoko says, gesturing to her pastry with her fork. "Anyway, um, we call these projection… things… Nightmares, and they hurt people- I guess the only dreams that are vivid enough to manifest are bad ones? Or maybe, only unfulfilled desires can get that strong, and any desire that is unfulfilled for so long just sorta goes bad? I don't really know. Anyway, they are made of magic, and our species lives off of magic, so there's, I guess, a sort of predator-prey relationship going on there."

"Why haven't I seen them before," Sayaka asks. "And what did you mean by 'our species,' and 'lives off magic?' Want some tea?"

"Oh god yes," says Kyuoko, "um. Please, yes. Uh, you probably didn't see them before because they don't exist for very long. They usually fade pretty quickly after they, uh… do whatever it is that gave them life, and there aren't that many nightmares anyway. It takes a lot of hate or frustration or whatever for a nightmare to manifest, and most people don't really ever feel quite that sick. They don't show up on camera either; most magic interferes with technology. Probably some sort of odd particle-wave thing messing up the electronics. I guess some people have probably seen them and lived, but those people probably get lumped in with all the other crazies. Does that answer your first question? Wow. Everything you make is delicious."

Sayaka pours herself a cup as well. "Thanks," she says. "Yeah, I guess."

"So, you know we're not human, right?" Kyuoko asks, taking another sip of tea. She closes her eyes for a moment and savors the taste.

Sayaka shakes her head, then, realizing Kyuoko can't see her, says "no… I just always assumed…"

"Um," Kyuoko says. She takes another bite of her vanilla tart, to buy time to think, and now her plate is empty. She frowns. "So, as near as anyone can tell, the Other One gives a few newborns magic each generation, but it changes them. I once… knew a guy who could create and control water, and his hair was blue too, but there are a lot of things that magic does to a kid that's not so obvious. After a certain point, we stop aging. Some people think it's random, others think that more powerful people stop aging sooner. I don't know. I've not noticed a trend if there is one, but I guess it gets kind of skewed by the fact that you can take someone else's powers if… Well…"

"If what?" Sayaka asks, slipping another tart into Kyuoko's plate.

Kyuoko grins gratefully up at her for a moment, but then her attention is focused back down on her plate. "Well," she says. "Um…there's a gemstone thing… In your head?"

"A what?" Sayaka asks. "Why? How do you know?"

"I've uh, got one too," Kyuoko replies, brushing back her long dark hair, and popping out her contact. "My sensei thought you could see it through your eye, but that's just absurd. It's just some kind of fucked up pigmentation, like your hair."

"Jesus tap dancing Christ that's freaky," Sayaka says.

"Yeah," Kyuoko fidgets again. "I guess so. Sorry."

"Don't worry about it," Sayaka says. "It just took me by surprise. Not like you have much control over it anyway. Go on please."

"Right." Kyuoko says. She eats about half of her pastry before continuing. "Um. Your um 'brain gem' is, uh… Well, it's where your magic is. I don't know why, maybe it's some kind of resonator? Like the receiver in a remote control car or something? If you uh… pluck it out, it would look like a little gemstone, and -theoretically- I would be able to use it to do whatever magic you can…"

"So those gemstones I saw on your back that day at your bar?" Sayaka trails off.

"Yeah," Kyuoko nods, avoiding eye contact. "Um. Sorry."

"For what?" Sayaka asks. Kyuoko doesn't respond for a while, so Sayaka gives her the last tart and says, "why are they on your back? How'd you stick them there?"

"Um, they just sort of sink in," Kyuoko says. She doesn't look up. "You need them near a major nerve cluster. I was taught chakra point, but it's basically the same thing. I think that's why the Other One makes it your in your brain? I'm still better with fire than… Anything else…"

"So, eating magic?" Sayaka asks after the conversation flags again.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that's what we do." Kyuoko shrugs. "We eat magic. We need it to live. Every time you cast a spell, you use up some of your magic. Every day that you live, you use up some magic. And when you run out, well…"

"You die." Sayaka finishes for her. Sayaka smiles. "I've never fought one of these nightmare things. Why aren't I dead then?"

"Positive emotions can slow your loss of magic," Kyuoko explains. "Other people's positive emotions, that is, and only if they're directed at you. Or maybe positive emotions give off magic the same way that negative ones do, but it's directed at you so you can use it? I don't know. It's not like there are scientists studying this kind of thing. Also, I'm guessing that you've not cast a lot of spells, so that probably helped."

"Alright," Sayaka hums. "So if we're not human, what do we call ourselves?"

"Um," Kyuoko shrugs and scrapes her plate. "We don't really have peaceful meetings all that often, so… I'm not really sure there is any kind of official name. I guess witches?"

"So there're only girl witches then?" Sayaka asks.

"No, there are guys too," Kyuoko says. "Why would it only be girls?"

"Oh." Sayaka thinks for a moment. "Why aren't there many peaceful meetings between witches?"

"Because we kill each other a lot." Kyuoko says it so normally that Sayaka almost doesn't understand. Kyuoko either sees her confusion, or feels it in the ensuing silence, so she continues. "Like I said, nightmares are pretty rare, and we kinda need their magic to live. I usually need to kill one once a week or so. There is usually only one nightmare per night, and sometimes, not even that, which sounds like a lot, but they're devilishly hard to find since they fade so fast and they aren't terribly obtrusive anyway. So, usually, a major city can only support one witch, and it's pretty difficult to find nightmares when everything is all spread out like it is in the country. This makes choice territory hotly contested and, well, when you're desperate…"

"Oh." Sayaka says. "That actually explains a lot. Why are you telling me then?"

"Um, there's another witch here," Kyuoko replies. "I'm not sure I can beat her. I've got an eye that lets me see other witch's powers, but it takes a lot of magic to use. I usually only use it when I'm about to fight. I don't know if I can win this one. She can see the future."

"Fuck," says Sayaka. She says it a few more times, in case the universe didn't quite hear the first one. "I'm not going to fight someone who didn't do anything to me."

"Sorry Sayaka-chan," Kyuoko says. "Of course not." She stands and gestures to her dishes. "Where would you like me to put these?"

"In the sink please," Sayaka says. "I'll wash them later. Are you leaving? You can stay as long as you want…"

"Of course in the sink," Kyuoko mutters. "Where else would you want them. Sorry. Yes. Um. I. I have things to do. Sorry."

"Well, come back anytime," Sayaka replies. "I would like us to be friends."

"Sure," Kyuoko nods. "Friends." She leaves and shuts the door behind her.

"Goddamn," Sayaka says. "I'm in an urban fantasy novel."

Outside Sayaka's door, Kyuoko leans against the wall and congratulates herself on not using her x-Ray gem. She blushes as she realizes she still could. The wall isn't thick… She closes her eyes and teleports back to her bar. It's a waste of magic, she knows, but her employees all know about her magic, and she doesn't trust her willpower around Sayaka-chan.

 **AN: Yay! I has two followers! Smiley stickers for the both of you! I'm posting this earlier than intended as a thankyou to my wonderful followers.**

 **I have deliberately avoided including any of Sayaka's original friends up until this point, since I have grand plans for each. Obviously, I will need to make them witches, since in many cases, their magic is a fairly integral part of their personality, but it doesn't make much sense to have them grow up together, since there can only be a certain number of magical folk in each generation or else the world would be overrun with them, and it doesn't make sense for each of the few magical people in Sayaka's generation to start out near eachother, since unfriendly competition is such an important part of both the original, and this story. I can get around this problem by making them all born at different times, and I'm doing just that, but it wouldn't really make sense for them to live nearby without Kyuoko killing them/ driving them off. Rest assured, they will make appearances, and I do have plans for them, but they had to get replaced as Sayaka's friends. This has also led to an interesting phenomena where Sayaka becomes more the center of her peer group than she was in the anime, so huh.**

 **P.S. extra smiley sticker for everyone who accurately predicts the significance of the title before chapter seven.**


	5. Chapter four

**Chapter four: Ozymandias, king of kings**

It is one of the great cosmic laws that any endeavor which calls itself a "dining hall" is reviled by its customers. The food always looks just a little bit off, and the texture is too rubbery. They always use too much salt, and noodles are under, or overcooked, never anywhere in between. If the dining hall serves meat, it will either be mushy, or full of gristle. You can usually tell which by the trash cans. The eggs will always be runny, regardless of whether they are powdered or not, and the cheese looks more like yellow plastic than food.

It is a trend that will be abolished by the CIM in 2053. A happy citizen doesn't have nightmares.

Sayaka's three friends don't eat in the dining hall. They don't eat the grey mush that they call mashed potatoes, or the fluffy yellow barely-food eggs. They eat in an empty classroom, Sayaka and her three friends together. She always cooks the night before, and her friends always pay her back for the cost of ingredients, though she never asks them to. It's no trouble for her- witches don't sleep, and she likes cooking- but they always take the time to thank her.

She cooked for them in high school too, and before that, middle school. The parents sent money with their children when they heard "that nice Sayaka girl" was cooking. It's a curious phenomenon that humans feel obliged to pay for things they enjoy, even when no one is asking for payment. It is called the law of reciprocity, and it is both the reason that street musicians can pay to eat, and the reason that so many people declare bankruptcy around December twenty fifth.

The day after Kyuoko visited Sayaka's apartment, the four friends are sitting in all of their usual spots, and Sayaka is passing out croissants, when Kyuoko shyly sticks her head around the door. She's still wearing the same leather brace, but dressed more modestly now in a long swishing skirt, and brightly colored t-shirt. It says "eien ni" on it, but of the five present, only Kyuoko speaks Japanese, and she doesn't translate it. She doesn't tell them how she found the place either, and they don't ask.

"Um," she says. "Sayaka-Chan, do you have room for one more?"

"Of course," Sayaka says with a smile. "I said we could be friends, didn't I?"

"Uh, sorry? I'm just here for food," Kyuoko replies. "It's not like you can say 'let's be friends' and have it just happen."

"Why not? Worked for me," Mike says.

"Yup." Agrees William.

"It's alright," Sayaka says with a smile. "We're happy to have you, regardless of your reason. I made extra anyway."

Kyuoko frowns sullenly, but she accepts the plate without complaint. "Why are you so damn nice all the time?" She mutters, and turns the plate in her hands so she has something to do.

Sayaka doubles over with a coughing fit, and Kyuoko apologizes again when it ends.

They eat in silence; too consumed by Sayaka's cooking to talk, though she hums through most of the meal.

She sings a little nonsense song as she cleans and packs away the dishes, and the three regulars slip fives or tens into her bag.

"You're not going to pay?" William asks, when he sees Kyuoko unmoving. She shrugs and blushes. "Do you have any idea how hard Sayaka works?" He continues.

"Three huntsmen, playing in the woods," Sayaka sings.

"Yeah," Kyuoko says, twisting her dark, silky, hair between her slender fingers. "I guess, yeah."

"The first, he finds a boar," sings Sayaka a little louder now, "but all he's got is a broken oar."

"She's up late every night cooking, after we all go to bed." William says. Jennifer passes a twenty to mike. "And she buys the fixings and she never complains. The least we can do is pay her for her trouble."

"Silly little huntsman, that won't stop the boar." Sayaka gets louder as William does.

"Why?" Kyuoko asks. "She doesn't seem to care."

"Chops chops chops and down he goes," Sayaka continues. She's smiling at them now, and Kyuoko's heart is pounding. "Silly little huntsman who brought just an oar."

William lashes out in a wide sweeping haymaker and hits Kyuoko in the side of the head. Maybe she was taken by surprise, or maybe she just didn't care to dodge, but the effect is the same. She staggers and blinks.

"The next, he finds a bear," Sayaka sings. "But all he brought is a flag that's got a tear. Silly little huntsman, you can't fight a bear."

Kyuoko falls on William with a flurry of punches and kicks. "Shut up shut up shut up," she's saying. "You ruin everything."

"Chops chops chops and down he goes, silly little huntsman who brought a flag with a tear." Sayaka's eyes are closed now. "The last, she wants her friends to stop fighting, but all she brought was her song writing. Silly little friends, songs can't stop wars. Chops chops chops and down she goes." Sayaka sits cross legged on the floor.

William and Kyuoko have stopped fighting now. "Chops," Sayaka says.

"What does that even mean?" Asks Jennifer. Sayaka shrugs.

"Sorry," Kyuoko says. "Um. Sorry Sayaka-Chan, I uh… Sorry."

"I accept your apology," Sayaka replied, eyes still closed as she sits there on the floor.

"Don't worry about it," Jennifer says. "William has attacked all of us once, even Sayaka."

"To be fair, Sayaka did bite me," William protests, prodding gingerly at his bruising face.

"Yeah, it's sorta a right of passage," Mike says. "Name's Mike. Just Mike. What's yours?"

"Sorry," Kyuoko says again. "I should go." She practically runs from the room.

"Huh." Mike says, once she's gone. "I think she'll make a great addition to our little group."

That night, Kyuoko visits Sayaka's apartment again.

She stands wordlessly outside the apartment, worrying at her shirt's hem, even after Sayaka opens the door.

"Alright." Sayaka says after a moment. "Are you a vegetarian?"

Kyuoko shakes her head firmly, but quietly, and makes her way to the armchair.

"Nope," Sayaka says. "Up. You're helping. Grab a bowl. Top shelf. Big green bastard. There we go. Mix these in it please. Thanks."

Kyuoko blinks at the rapidly growing stack in front of her, and wonders how she's already up to her elbows in ground beef and bread crumbs despite having not actually agreed to any of it.

"So," Sayaka says after a moment. "We're making meatloaf. I'm going to try it with sun dried tomatoes instead of ketchup should I replace the onions with onion powder, or do you care if there are different textures in there?"

Kyuoko shrugs, and keeps kneading the bowl's contents as instructed.

"Real onions it is then," Sayaka says cheerfully.

The two women prepare their meal in relative silence for a while, silence that is somehow perfectly comfortable, and broken only by Kyuoko's occasional question. When the meatloaf is in the oven, (three loaves: one for tonight, and two for lunch at school tomorrow) Sayaka brews a pot of tea, and they sit as they did the night before; Sayaka in the couch, and Kyuoko sinking into the plush armchair.

"I was wondering…" Sayaka says at last.

"Yeah?" Asks Kyuoko.

"You seem shy," Sayaka says. "Like one of the shyest people I've ever met, but you always wear super revealing clothes. What's up with that? I'm not judging, I'm just curious."

"I'm only shy around you," Kyuoko replies, "and anyway, I don't hate the way I look. I happen to think I look pretty nice, and if other people want to look, well, it's no skin off my nose."

"That… Actually makes a lot of sense," Sayaka says. "Thanks for explaining."

"What was the third huntsman going to be?" Kyuoko asks.

"I don't know," Sayaka shrugs. "I hadn't thought that far ahead. It would have had to be bigger than a bear though… Maybe a dragon? Rhymes with flagon?"

"Oh." Kyuoko says. "Ok."

Kyuoko isn't there at lunch the next day, or the day after that, or any of the rest of the month, but she shows up at Sayaka's apartment each night, and helps her cook. Each night, they talk for a few hours, and Sayaka lets her eat whatever she chooses. The arrangement seems to work out well for them.

Sayaka starts to look healthier. The dark bags under her eyes fade, as does the limp. She sings at Golgotha again, and a few other places besides, and once more, completely forgets about her magic.

Of course, nothing lasts forever.

 **AN: stickers for my two followers. Let me know what you think so far? If there's anything you think should be changed, or if there's anything you like and want more of?**

 **Hopefully, Sayaka is more in character this chapter? Let me know what you think.**


	6. Chapter five

**Chapter five: look upon my works ye mighty**

Sometimes, things happen. Sometimes they have clearly obvious causes; you fell because I pushed you, Sayaka drinks because she is lonely. Sometimes they do not.

But everything has a cause, if you look hard enough.

The western dormitory buildings were built in 1921, when architects favored solid brick walls, with few windows, and lighting was harder to do right. Each of the dormitories were named after Greek gods, in the poetic, if pretentious, fashion of the times. Zeus, Hera, Poseidon, Hades, Hephaestus, Athena, Dionysus, Aphrodite, Ares, Apollo, Artemis, and Hermes. The girls dorms are named for goddesses, the men's for gods. They would be integrated in 2021.

The Great Depression hit the college hard, and the subsequent war stripped the college of most of its students. The school almost died, strangled by its rapidly emptying purse, but the dean implemented a number of sweeping financial reforms, and it endured. Of course, in order to survive, they had to slash the budget to almost nothing, and it was never increased again. Not on a wide scale, at least, even after the hardships had passed, so they put off renovating the dark, oppressive dorm buildings for years, mostly deterred only by the hassle of the paperwork required by a budget increase.

In 1983, there was a fire, and most of the dorms suffered extensive damage. Ironically, Hephaestus was spared, with only minor soot stains. It made sense to update the burned out buildings while they were being repaired, but these renovations never found their way to the relatively undamaged hephaestus.

Both Mike and William live in Hephaestus, so Sayaka and her friends usually hang out in the dorm's common room; after all, Sayaka lives off campus somewhere, and it makes sense to meet nearer the majority. But the rarely repainted walls are slightly darker for the now faded smoke stains, and the room smells odd. Like week old pizza, unwashed bodies, and faintly, the smell of smoke. The room has only two flat windows, high up in the walls, and half a dozen half-globe light fixtures of a sort of semi-opaque white plastic, fogged with age. The carpet may have been replaced some time since the building's construction, almost a hundred years ago, but if so, no-one alive remembers it. It is vacuumed seven times a week, when all the students are supposed to be asleep, but there are still decades of beer stains and ground out cigarettes that no amount of cleaning can ever remove.

In short, the room is subtly unpleasant. Not enough to really mark, but enough, certainly, to leave its occupants with a vague sense of unease. Of course, it would be demolished in 2067 by the CIM who feared, correctly, that it might inspire thought crime.

Four weeks after Sayaka first sung at Golgotha, the four friends are in the Hephaestus common room, studying quietly as normal, but a sense of restlessness percolates the unpleasant space, and it is not long before Jennifer is proposing that they go "somewhere, anywhere, else. Anything to get outside."

And that is how they find themselves at an ice cream parlor a few blocks from campus.

Some days, Sayaka forgets that she can wield magic. Not the sort of forgetting, where if someone were to ask her, she would say no, but the sort where you just never have occasion to think about it. She often forgets to carry her wand, or else, leaves it behind under the assumption that she won't need it. Strictly speaking, a wand is not necessary to the use of magic, but it helps to have something familiar to focus on- helps enough, in fact, that most witches carry their preferred focus with them at all times. Usually a wand, token, or fetish; something small and easily concealed. In ages past, they favored staves. Sayaka uses a wand, because most of what she knows was learned from novels and movies.

That morning, she hadn't had the thought "I can use magic; I'm special," so her wand stayed in its little blue shoebox under her bed. She couldn't know it was a poor choice; she had never before needed her magic pressingly enough for her wand to be a part of her morning routine.

The ice cream shop is small and cramped; there are only three tables inside, and another two outside that Seattle's omnipresent rain keeps anyone from ever using. The linoleum flooring has come off near the edges of the shop's single room, and small piles of dust and grit crouch in the corners like loathsome grey toads. The room is brightly lit, but the long fluorescent bulbs aren't all the same color, and a few near the back flicker, or else, have gone out entirely.

The serving counter has room for maybe a dozen different flavors, but there are only half that available, and only one type of cone. The server and owner are the same person, and several days stubble dots his cheeks. He can't be more than forty, but his hair is almost completely grey, and his lower lip is torn and bloody from where he has been gnawing at it.

The shop is otherwise deserted, but then, that's why Sayaka and her friends come here. That, and loyalty to the owner.

"Hi," Sayaka says brightly, stepping up to the counter and smiling. "How're you today Mr. Morris?"

The man at the counter shrugs. Sayaka smiles brightly, and orders a simple vanilla ice cream with gummy bears, sprinkles, and chocolate chips. She likes to engage all of her senses when eating. Her meal should look appetizing, it should smell good, it should taste good, but it should also have an interesting texture.

The man scoops out her ice cream and lovingly mixes in her toppings, but he scowls as he accepts her money. Sayaka smiles cheerfully, and moves on.

When Sayaka was three, her mother had told her "you never know when someone is having a bad day, so smile as often as you can. You have no idea how much a smile can cheer someone up, and a smile doesn't cost you anything." She was right, but a smile isn't always enough. Sometimes nothing is. When you're in a foul mood, other people's disputes seem so meaningless, so shallow, but their happiness is just as grating.

Sayaka's friends order, pay, and join her at one of the empty store's three tables. The one farthest from the door, since Jennifer likes having a wall at her back.

"Alright," William says. "The winter ball. Who's everyone going with?"

"I'm going with Sayaka," Mike declares triumphantly. Sayaka scowls.

"Sayaka?" Jennifer asks. "Our Sayaka?"

"Yup!" Mike says.

"Nope," Sayaka replies. "You're not."

"One day," Mike promises. "One day, you'll say yes. It'll be just like a movie; you say no all the time, but I just have to be persistent enough."

"That's something I actually have a huge problem with in movies," Jennifer says. "I don't know if they're implying that women don't really know what they want, or if they think that asking someone out over and over again when they've already rejected you a dozen times is cute somehow? It isn't. It's stalking. I'm sure Sayaka wants you to stop, but she's always so nice. She's probably just trying not to hurt your feelings."

"Wow," Mike replies. "Chill out Jen. It's not a big deal. If she feels that strongly about it, she would have told me."

"Actually," Sayaka says with a sort of awkward smile, like she's not really sure what to do with her face when the situation doesn't require a smile. "I would kind of prefer that you stop. Sorry."

"Oh." Mike says. He blushes with embarrassment. The ice cream cone slips from his hand and the unbitten rim cracks on the hard linoleum. Ice Cream splatters across the floor.

"So William," Jennifer says suddenly, in an attempt to break the tension. "How about it. Want to go to the dance with me?"

"Really?" William grins like a child that just learned that broccoli will be replaced with candy at every meal. "Of course! I'd love to go with you!"

Suddenly, the shop's owner is standing over them. "Really?" He asks. His voice is dead and monotone, like a minor chord to William's major. The lights aren't any dimmer, but the usually cheerful ice cream shop seems dreary and faded. The bright colors seem like a sad parody of themselves, and the tubs of ice cream seem less meaningful than the empty spaces beside them. "Do you know how hard I work on each cone?" His voice still doesn't have any inflection. "I make each cone by hand. Do you know of any other ice cream shop that does that? They all order bags of cones premade, or make them in a machine in the back. You know I mix the toppings in, right? Everywhere else they just throw them on top. I wanted each one to be special, and you just dropped it on the floor. You didn't even care. You didn't try to clean it up, you didn't even notice. You were too engrossed in your meaningless little discussion 'who will you go to the dance with?' You're still just kids. It's not like you're going to marry them. It's not like your stupid dance is going to actually matter to any of you in thirty years, but I guess it doesn't really matter what you do with your ice cream since the store is closing tomorrow. Bankruptcy. That was probably the last ice cream that will ever be served here."

There is something behind him now. It's almost formless, like a small patch of static hanging in the air, but a single white eye stares unblinkingly out of the center.

"Eeeeeeeeee," it says, and Mr. Morris the ice cream man falls over dead. He drops, like all of his bones have turned abruptly to liquid.

- **AN:** **Gee it sure is convenient that Kyuoko explained how nightmares work just in time for Sayaka to meet her first one. It's almost like someone planned that out…. Hmmm…**

 **Also, stickers for the two followers. I love my followers and I wouldn't have posted any chapters past the second if it weren't for them.**

 **Also also, according to fanfic's traffic tracker thingy, their have been 200 accounts that have visited this story (200 exact as of 12:37, 8/24/2016), and almost 300 views. The last chapter had almost 50 views, which means you guys are actually reading later chapters... please please review and tell me what you liked/ why you read so far, and what you disliked, etc. Even if you don't follow/fav, a review (even a negative one) is hugely encouraging, and will absolutely help me improve.**

 **I also offer stickers for reviewers... just FYI... I swear that imaginary fanfiction stickers are more valuable than they seem...**


	7. Chapter six

**Chapter six: and despair**

When the CIM was preparing to turn on their AI "Unity," in 2045, the lead computer ethics programmer said "we better hope I did my job right, because if not, once we turn it on, none of us will be able to stop it."

One of the interns proposed building it in a box with only one input- a simple qwerty keyboard, and one output- an old analogue screen. That way, they proposed, it would be contained, and therefore safe.

The ethics programmer just laughed, and said "dear, what is a brain, but a very complicated computer? And can't all computers be hacked? I have no doubt, that a sufficiently intelligent entity- as Unity surely will be- will have little trouble convincing anyone on this planet, or any other, to do literally anything it pleases. There is no one we could put watching that screen, aside from another Unity, that it could not convince to let it out, if it so chooses."

But it turns out you don't have to be as smart as Unity would later become in order to make people think however you please. You just need to be able to see the future.

The witch knew that Sayaka would never fight her, would never join with Kyuoko and realize The Purpose, unless she was provoked, and only a few things would be significant enough to provoke the generally benevolent Sayaka. The witch had seen this.

When you can see the future, making large sums of money is unbelievably trivial. Go to a casino with a hundred dollars, and you can walk out with tens of thousands, provided you lose exactly enough to keep the establishment from growing suspicious of course. But then, that can be seen too. Go to the stock exchange with a few tens of thousands, and you can walk away with millions.

It was a trivial matter to build an ice cream shop half a block away from Mr. Morris's beloved store and, if your goal isn't profit, you can charge less than you bought the ice cream for. Mr. Morris simply had no chance of competing. Bankruptcy was inevitable. As was his subsequent eviction from his apartment when he missed a rent payment.

It costs surprisingly little to hire the starving homeless to buy an ice cream cone at a certain failing ice cream shop, and only a little more to get them to be as messy and impolite as possible.

Overall, it took only three months to reprogram Mr. Morrison into the sort of person who just might despair enough to produce a nightmare. Of course, the witch had to begin her plan before Sayaka and Kyuoko had ever met each other, but the witch knew what The Purpose required, in order to come to fruition, so she did just that. A visit in person the day before, and a few choice words about sentiment, and respect, and the witch's weapon was primed. No one could predict ahead of time just how the precise application of a few million dollars could produce a nightmare at precisely the desired minute. It turns out that it isn't all that difficult to make people into whatever you need them to be if you can see the future.

Atop a skyscraper, halfway across town Kyuoko crouches defensively, wand ready in her hand. The homeless man stands across from her, coat unbuttoned, running his gnarled hands through his dark, unwashed, hair.

"Your friend is in trouble," the man says. "Someone's paying me to tell you. They said her name is Sayaka. A nightmare is attacking her, whatever that means. Apparently they created it? It will kill her if you don't intervene."

Kyuoko snarls like a feral beast, and feeds a trickle of power into the gem that lets her see into people's thoughts. She doesn't like using it, since it feels like such a massive violation, but her Sayaka could be in danger. She sees in an instant, that he is being truthful, but doesn't bother burrowing deeper. Sayaka is in trouble, and that really only leaves Kyuoko one option. She teleports a few buildings over- she is too distracted, too emotional, to use that particular power at range, but it's still faster than walking.

Each jump burns deep into her reserves, but she doesn't care. She doesn't stop to wonder what will happen to her if she can't find a nightmare for a few months, or if she has to defend her territory from a particularly powerful witch.

Moments after Mr. Morris dies, the four friends are on their feet. One of them had upset the table in their haste, but no one pays the toppled furniture any mind.

"What is that thing?" William asks, but it doesn't seem like he really expects an answer.

"A nightmare, I think," Sayaka answers anyway.

"Eeeeeeee," the nightmare says, and William collapses. His eyes stare sightlessly across the discolored linoleum, but they seem horribly lifelike in death; completely unchanged but for their lack of focus. Jennifer runs, and Sayaka doesn't blame her. Mike screams, a wordless expression of terror. He falls over backwards.

Sayaka reaches for her back pocket where she sometimes keeps her wand, but she's not carrying it today. In desperation, she raises her hand, and a thin wall of ice divides the room, separating them from the nightmare. She has no reason to expect a physical wall to thwart its incorporeal attack, but it's all she can think to do in the few moments she has.

The creature says its word again, and deep cracks splinter the wall, but it holds. The nightmare speaks again, and thin slivers of ice break off of Sayaka's makeshift barricade. She's trying to fight back, trying to form some kind of projectile, but the shape of the spell keeps slipping from her mind.

"Eeeeeeeee," the nightmare says, and Sayaka's wall gives way. She thinks she's done for, but then there is Kyuoko, wand in hand. Her hair hangs loosely about her enraged face and blood runs from a bloody nose or split lip- it's impossible to tell which. Though the store's lights are on, there seems almost to be no light, and Kyuoko's red eye and terrible grin shine horribly in the faux darkness.

Kyuoko flicks her wand, and a vortex of whirling orange flame consumes the nightmare. She's panting, and leaning against one of the tables, but the light starts to return to the room.

"Oh my god," Sayaka says after a moment. "Fuck. Thank you so much. Jesus tap dancing Christ."

Kyuoko nods, still panting. The nightmare's eye lies gleaming on the floor.

"How did you find me?" Sayaka asks.

"Gem," Kyuoko answers. She wipes her bloody face on the back of her hand and slides her wand into the odd leather brace on her arm. "I've got a gem. Lets me find anyone I've met before."

"Oh." Sayaka says. "Thanks." It hasn't quite sunken in yet that she just watched two people die.

"You took care of that remarkably quickly," a third voice says. It belongs to an androgynous figure with long sable hair. They stand by the door upright, back straight, hands clasped at their back.

"You!" Kyuoko says. She flicks her wrist and the wand slides smoothly into her hand. "You're responsible for this! You attacked Sayaka-Chan!"

"I did, yes." The other witch says. "You may call me Akemi."

"You what?" Sayaka asks. Tears brim at the corners of her eyes like tiny diamonds. "Why? I don't want to hurt anyone?"

"I'll kill you!" Kyuoko yells, and she's already casting spells. A rapid fire stream of fireballs are splashing off some sort of invisible barrier, but Kyuoko's repeated teleportation has drained her magical reserve, and she has nothing to back up her feeble attacks.

"I see you haven't met my little sister yet," the witch says. They haven't moved an inch, but a shorter figure has stepped out from behind them. "You see, her specialty is telekinesis. Madoka, her wand if you please?" The shorter figure nods, and Kyuoko's wand splinters in her hand.

"Why are you doing this," Sayaka asks. She's not smiling. She shakes her head, and there's a sort of horrible resolve in her eyes now. "You killed Mr. Morris. And you killed my friend." She gets her magic to cooperate now, and buries the two strangers in an avalanche of ice and snow.

But the younger one has caught it with her own magic, and shoves it back. Sayaka collapses, unconscious, as her own feeble strength gives out. The two strangers turn wordlessly to go.

"I'll find you again," Kyuoko yells after them. "I'll find you, and I'll kill you!"

Neither witch looks back, but Akemi does say "I know." Kyuoko scowls, and digs Sayaka out from the small mound of snow she's buried in. The frost burns Kyuoko's arms like fire might have, if fire bothered her, but she ignores the pain, and then Sayaka is free. Kyuoko considers leaving the young man- Mike, she thinks she remembers- but he might be important to Sayaka, so she digs him out as well.

Kyuoko takes the magic from the nightmare's eye. It crumbles to dust, and she feels a little bit of vigor returning to her limbs. She picks up Sayaka without any visible strain, closes her eyes, and teleports back to her own home.

 **AN: many thanks (and a sticker) for the anon that reviewed. thankyou anon! and as always, stickers for my two followers. also, extra sticker for foldedhands who is awesome and reviews every chapter, but mostly for correctly deducing the meaning of CIM. Next chapter, all is revealed (sort of...)**

 **Also, as promised, here are two of the other magical girls as witches, though it was probably fairly obvious that homura would be the "mysterious clairvoyant". sorry it has taken me until chapter six to introduce one of the major characters...**

 **Anyway, as always, reviews are love, and if you want me to write better, you know how to make this happen. I have been uploading about two chapters a week, but almost all the chapters in the first part are written, so, since followers are so inspiring, I will upload new chapters immediately upon getting new followers, on top of my usual schedule (at least, until I run out of chapters)... I've basically already been doing this, but now its formal.**


	8. Chapter seven

**Chapter seven: the things one learns in office**

When President Rushford entered the Oval Office on his first official day as president, there was someone waiting for him. Two someones. A man and a woman. The first massive and dark, with a pair of tinted sunglasses, and an exquisite pinstripe suit. The second, short and dainty, wearing an odd white tuxedo.

"Hello, agent…" President Rushford said, extending his hand somewhere between the two and grinning winsomely.

"Agent Lang," the woman cut in, taking his hand.

"Well I'm looking forward to working closely with everyone here," the President laughed with a jovial smile. That seems to be what presidents are best at; saying meaningless platitudes with a jovial smile.

"No," the man said, glaring down at the president. "With any luck, you'll never have to see us again. We're with the CIM- that's Center for the Investigation of Magic. We like to meet each new president as a formality, to let them know we exist."

"And," agent Lang said, "to let you know that, any time there's a mess your CIA or your FBI, or NSA or whatever can't explain, we're there to clean it up."

"What… sort of mess?" The president asked, wondering if he should call for help.

"The sort that involves magic, Mr. President," the man replied.

"Ah." President Rushford had said. "So magic is…"

"Real, yes." Agent Lang finished for him. She had a sort of sneer that said she thought she was above having to explain something that had been a matter of course for her for several years. "Or possibly extremely advanced technology. Magic and sufficiently advanced technology are, almost definitionally, indistinguishable. We like to use the word magic though. Makes sure no one forgets just how far out of our depth we are."

"Why should I believe you," the president had asked simply then, and the two agents had responded by showing him a video- they had brought a thin screen on which to show it. In the video, they, or their forbears give the same speech to president after president- five past presidents, all told. Rushford looked around himself for a camera, and there, on their lapels, what at first appeared to be buttons are, on closer inspection, tiny lenses.

Then they drew fat Manila envelopes from inside their suit jackets. Each was stamped with the bold red words "classified."

"These are the ones we could bring," they explained. "The ones that are only classified." As President Rushford reached for the one on top he saw his predecessors doing the same, and was abruptly convinced, even without looking inside. He opened it anyway, more out of reflex, than any sort of conscious choice.

"March 12, 1923," he read. "12 found dead in barber shop. No known survivors. Whichcraft suspected." Twelve mugshots followed, and twelve comprehensive biographies. Then crime scene photographs. They were in black and white, but still, they depicted enough gore to make him blanch. The barber shop was covered in uneven steel starburst patterns, and long spines jutted out into the rooms. Bodies lay impaled or dismembered everywhere, and there were odd spherical holes gouged into several of the surfaces. Spherical holes which corresponded to spherical chunks of wall or floor or chair dozens of feet away. After the pictures was a thick written section, which the president wasn't brave enough to read.

"How bad is it?" He asked, returning the file.

"We don't know," the agents replied. "We don't know what's causing it, we don't know if it's a natural phenomenon, or if there are intelligent entities behind it. If intelligent beings are responsible, we don't know if they're human or not. We don't know if they mean us well or ill. We know that people are dying, but we don't know how many. If a house burns down, and a family is burned alive, we can't always tell if magic was involved or not. If someone goes missing, maybe they ran away and just don't want to be found, or maybe… Well, Mr. President, I think you take my point." On screen, Rushford saw his predecessors refusing responsibility at this point. Saying "well, I'm sure you've got it well in hand," or "don't worry, I won't stand in your way. Do whatever you have to."

President Rushford cleared his throat, straightened his jacket, and reminded himself that his country was counting on him to lead. "What can I do to help," he had said with a grim smile.

Agent Lang wasn't sneering anymore. She nodded approvingly and said, "well then, I suppose we better get down to business."

When the police respond to reports of an unspecified disaster at a failing ice cream shop near the center of town, they find the place in ruins. A nearly perfectly circular patch of floor is burned down to the foundation, and a vortex of soot and scorch marks extends outwards in every direction. Splintered bits of ice as long as a man's arm lie melting across the floor amongst the drifts of sludgy snow. Three bodies are scattered across the floor, with no obvious signs of trauma. When Mike wakes up, he finds himself laying beneath a sheet, as police officers photograph the crime scene.

He struggles upright with a panicked yell, and someone tackles him. The next time Mike wakes up, he is handcuffed to a hospital bed.

 **AN: as promised, rewarding a follow with an extra chapter. Enjoy!**

 **Also, smiley stickers for my three followers. You all are awesome! Also, smilies for the two anons that reviewed last chapter. The guest account "vandi" in particular was very encouraging. In answer to your question, blue is a natural eye color for humans, and I sort of assumed that Sayaka was born with naturally blue eyes. Her lighter one, then, would be a result of the "Other One's" tinkering. I would offer an extra sticker for guesses about the Other One, but well, isn't it pretty obvious?**

 **Also, also, I may have already mentioned this, but props to folded hands for the (mostly) correct CIM theory.**


	9. Chapter eight

**Chapter eight: a golden treasure inside is hid**

Sayaka doesn't recognize the bed she wakes up in. She doesn't recognize the gauzy curtains hanging about the great canopy, the dim room, or the white-painted walls. She doesn't recognize the intricately painted paper and wood slats propped up against the walls, or the creatures painted on them. She definitely doesn't recognize the tiny yellow candle less flames dancing in the air, but she knows enough to recognize Kyuoko's handiwork.

She doesn't recognize the oversized t-shirt she's wearing, and she doesn't know why she isn't wearing anything else, but she knows who will. The temperature drops a few degrees.

"Oh, fuck me with a grapefruit spoon," she hears from the other room. "Why are you on fire? You're just eggs! You don't burn! How are you burning?"

Sayaka goes to investigate. There is a short hallway, with closed doors on either side then, presumably, the living room. It's set up like a rock garden; the floor is made of combed gravel, but Sayaka's bare feet are stopped a few inches above it. Large rocks are arrayed near the walls, and they look natural, but they're shaped like chairs and couches. Ferns grow from the ceiling, and water runs from one wall- painted to resemble mist-wreathed mountains. The paint shifts subtly, as if the mist were rolling with a slight breeze, and a brightly plumed bird flits between peaks. Three red-painted wooden arches mark the doorways. One is covered by a heavy wooden door, and Sayaka assumes it is the exit. She takes the other one, and finds herself in a kitchen.

The floor and furniture are made of smooth grey stone, the faucets and handles and other fittings are gleaming chrome. The walls and ceiling seem to be made of brightly lit mist.

"Son of a catholic whore!" Sayaka exclaims, choking on the smell of burned food. "What are you doing to those poor eggs?"

"Cooking them," Kyuoko replies. She's dressed as provocatively as always, but a black canvas apron does some to restore her modesty. She's frowning, and ducking her head shyly.

"Why are they on fire?" Sayaka asks.

"I don't know!" Cries Kyuoko. "I turned around for only a second, and…"

"Why aren't I wearing clothes?" Sayaka interrupts.

"You are," Kyuoko insists. Sayaka raises one narrow eyebrow, and crosses her arms over her chest. Kyuoko blushes. "Um. I was… worried you would catch a cold or something," she says. "Your clothes were wet… All the snow?"

"Pants?" Sayaka asks.

"Well, there were going to be pants," Kyuoko says, studying the flaming eggs as if she were an ancient soothsayer, seeking out a prophesy. "I got a bit distracted by, um, pants regions… So no pants. Wouldn't have been right to um… It's actually more modest this way?"

Sayaka is laughing now, and she shoves Kyuoko gently out of the way. "Go find me pants," she says between peals of laughter. "I'll take care of breakfast. Or is it lunch?"

"Right," Kyuoko nods blushing. "I'll just go do that." God that X-ray gem is more trouble than it's worth. She returns quickly with a pair of boxers, and blushes the same shade of scarlet as her hair when Sayaka puts them on in front of her.

"What?" Sayaka asks. "No skin off my nose if other people want to look, right? Isn't that what you said?"

Kyuoko nods and stalks over to observe the egg making operation. She guesses that Sayaka has started over entirely, since not a trace of the blackened ruin remains. "Scrambled or omelets?" Sayaka asks.

"Omelets," Kyuoko sighs. "Definitely omelets. What do you need? Cheese?"

"Yes," Sayaka says, adjusting her shirt self-consciously. She's a fair bit more embarrassed than she lets on. "Cheddar, please. And a cheese grater. And an onion, and garlic. Chilli powder for a little warmth if you've got it. Bacon. Ham."

"The fuck is a cheese grater?" Kyuoko asks, retrieving the rest of the ingredients.

"Metal thing with sharp holes," Sayaka replies, not unkindly, and with another of her smiles. "You use it to grate cheese. Hence the name. I'm surprised you've got all the ingredients. I didn't take you for someone who cooks. Not on your own."

"I felt… inspired…" Kyuoko mutters. "How long have these cheese graters been around?"

"You got a smartphone?" Sayaka asks, brushing her long hair back to keep from contaminating the food. Kyuoko passes her phone wordlessly. "Fifteen-forties," Sayaka says, after consulting the phone briefly.

"Damn!" Kyuoko snarls. "That long? How come I didn't see any when I was living in France? Aren't the French supposed to be great cooks or something?"

"That's racist," says Sayaka absently watching the bacon cook in another pan while she piles the rest of the ingredients and starts dicing. "Maybe you didn't watch anyone cooking? When were you in France?"

"I went to restaurants," Kyuoko shrugs. "A lot. I moved to France in the twenties. The nineteen twenties, that is. Germany wasn't doing so hot so I got the hell out. I left France in sixty-one."

"Jesus!" Sayaka says. "How old are you?"

"One hundred and eighty one years old," Kyuoko announces proudly. "As far as I know, I'm the third oldest witch in existence. This guy in Transylvania claims to have been the original Vlad the impaler which would make him the oldest if he's telling the truth, then there's Mami Tomoe over in Detroit. I think she's two fifty something? I don't mess with her, but basically everyone wants to take Detroit from her."

"Why is that?" Sayaka asks.

"Because Detroit sucks," Kyuoko laughs. "Do you have any idea how many Nightmares it has? Almost as many as North Korea, but you don't have to put up with god damned real life Joffrey in Detroit."

"Makes sense I guess," Sayaka nods, and scrapes the other ingredients into the skillet. "I've been wondering. Your home… How'd you pull that off?"

"Practical effects," Kyuoko grins. "Smoke machines and creative home design. I've also got a gem that lets my make portals, so that helped with the living room, and I bribed a telekinetic to help. You like?"

"Oh god yes," Sayaka laughs. "It's remarkably unsubtle, but yeah. I like it. How many gems do you have?"

"Well, there's mine," Kyuoko answers. "Then the teleporting one, the finding one, one that gives me X-ray vision. One that lets me read people's minds, and another that I can use to make people do things, but only if I tell them twice. The portal gem, which is actually completely different than the teleporting gem. Also, a gem that lets me read other people's powers. So, nine I guess, if you count the one I was born with."

"So you've killed eight people?" Sayaka asks. She has a surprisingly hard time getting upset about it.

"Oh god no," Kyuoko replies. "I've killed maybe two dozen? Three? I lost track a while ago. These are just the ones I liked enough to keep. The guy that controlled water that I told you about? I don't really feel comfortable around water, so I traded that one to the telekinetic that helped set up my home. Then there was one that made light, but I can do that easily enough with my fire, so that would've been redundant. I could go on, but I don't really feel comfortable talking about this."

They talk about meaningless nothings until Sayaka has finished cooking, and Kyuoko is two thirds of the way through her breakfast.

"Literally everything you make is delicious," Kyuoko says around a mouthful of omelet. "I think I'm in love."

"I'm sure you'll get over it," Sayaka shrugs uncomfortably. "Anyway, I've been meaning to ask you… What happened yesterday after I passed out?"

"Oh." Kyuoko says. "I dug you out of the snow, saved that Mike asshole, and got the hell out of dodge. I didn't want to be around when the police showed up. No social security number, you understand."

"Yeah," Sayaka nods. "I get that. What happened to Mike?"

"Left him. What was I supposed to do?" Kyuoko takes a massive bite.

"You left him?" Sayaka stands abruptly. "For the police you didn't want to meet?"

"Look," Kyuoko says, gesturing with her fork. She doesn't stand. "I did you a favor. He was never going to give you a break. Now, he'll be in jail for a while. It's America. It's not like they'll kill him or anything. I just bought you a few months of peace. Maybe a few years."

"I can't accept that," Sayaka says. "He's innocent. He's also my friend. We can't let him go to jail. How're we going to rescue him?"

"We?" Kyuoko finishes her omelet and downs half a glass of orange juice. Sayaka waits patiently for her to finish. "I'm not going to storm a police station."

"Have I ever made you a steak?" Sayaka asks after a moment. She knows full well that she hasn't. "I start by slicing a pocket into the meat with a really sharp knife, then I stuff it with chives and chopped garlic and diced onions, and bacon. The trick is to half-cook the bacon ahead of time to make sure it's not raw when you finish cooking the steak, but still raw enough during that it still has some cooking left to do, so the juices seep into the steak. Then, before you cook it, you sprinkle pepper on top, and chopped green onions, and some basil if you're feeling frisky. If you really want to go all out, you can make some marinade out of…. Are you ok?"

Kyuoko writhes uncomfortably in her chair and moans quietly. "Oh my god." She says. "Oh god. Stop. I will literally explode if you keep talking. You can't get a girl all revved up like that and then blue ball her."

"Um?" Sayaka blushes. "Um. I feel deeply uncomfortable about your relationship with food. Is that a 'of course I'll help Sayaka rescue her friend?'"

"Two steaks," Kyuoko says. "I get them both. And I get to watch you cook them."

"Deal," Sayaka sighs. Kyuoko spits into her palm and holds it out. "I'm not touching that."

 **AN: sorry for the long delay between chapters. the next couple are written and ready to go as well, but things happened and also some stuff and i wound up without a computer for a while (probably aliens).**

 **as always, the reviewers and followers are more than mildly awesome. probably not literally the greatest people on the planet, but also probably pretty damn close. stickers for all of them.**


	10. Chapter nine

**Chapter nine: just a phase**

In 1853, the American commodore Matthew Perry arrived in Japan to "open" her ports to the west. Japan's fears of western imperialism were realized. Kyuoko was 20 years old At the time. As was typical for Japanese families then, she still lived in her parents' massive mansion, waiting to be married off, but of course, she had little intention of letting that happen, and her supernaturally convincing sensei sheltered her from her parents' wishes.

Her eight year tutorship with Kohara had been mutually beneficial. Two witches, working together, have an easier time of finding Nightmares, and each have to spend less magic in their hunts. It's simply more efficient. But aside from that, even, she added combat magic to his less offensive abilities, and allowed him to defend his territory. By January 1853, she had killed a witch, and helped to drive away another two.

Every day was spent practicing her magic, or else listening as Kohara told her everything he knew about the supernatural. Every night was spent in Nightmare hunts-successful about half the time- or looking for other witches to ensure they aren't trespassing. Kyuoko had grown strong these last eight years, and finally stopped aging, but that wasn't the most telling change; she had gained a measure of confidence that hadn't had a chance to grow under her parents' stifling influence. The knowledge that she could reduce a human to ash as easily as breathing birthed a sort of forwardness that both surprised and horrified her parents. Kyuoko earned a reputation for rebelliousness both in town, and in her family's mansion, but she had an ally now- someone in whom she could confide- so the hostile stares and malicious pranks didn't matter to her as much as they had previously.

An unintended side effect of her unintended apathy was a sharp spike in her popularity with the village youths. Rather than the too-good-for-them outsider she used to be, she had become comprehensible. They had something in common now. She had a reputation for rebellion? Well, they were feeling pretty damned rebellious themselves. She still interacted with them only rarely though. They had nothing to say that she wanted to hear, and it was still improper for a girl of her station to be seen talking to… them. Her time was occupied with learning magic and fighting Nightmares anyway.

Sometime that year, she acquired red hair dye, not from any sort of desire to be different- none of her little rebellions were conscious- but because she legitimately preferred her hair that color. Her parents were not pleased, but a few words from Kohara smoothed out the situation.

Kyuoko's life was stressful to her though; she never got a chance to rest, and she could talk about her struggles with no one but her teacher- the relationship between student and teacher can sometimes become friendly and trusting, but rarely can they count each other as equals. But that wasn't her biggest problem. It wasn't inconsequential, certainly, and it undeniably contributed, but none of the old epics Kyuoko had read prepared her for the psychological effect of her adventures.

She started to have bad dreams. Not the sort of bad dream that can be written off and forgotten, but the kind where she woke in a cold sweat, flames ready at her fingers. Noises also sent her into a panic sometimes; if she couldn't immediately identify their source, or if they sound at all similar to something a Nightmare might make. Whenever someone new came to town, she couldn't help but wonder if they were a hostile witch. If mental health care had been more advanced, she might have been diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder, in the eighteen hundreds though, she was simply mad. She did a good job of hiding it.

In 1854, Kyuoko's parents found her in bed with another woman. The butcher's daughter. Also, two young men; a rice farmer named Taigo, and the milkman- Kyuoko never bothered to learn the milkman's name. It wasn't the men her parents were angry about though. Sure they ruined Kyuoko's chances for a politically beneficial marriage, but they had given up on that whole prospect long ago.

"We didn't raise you to be Doseiai," her father had shouted. And her mother had sobbed quietly behind him. Her sister and aunt and honorable grandmother and honorable grandfather, and all the other members of her extended family looked on- not quite surprised, and not quite enraged, more apathetic. That was worse somehow.

They may have been family, but the only thing Kyuoko could think was "I need to stop them before they make a Nightmare." That is how the gorgeous old Sakura mansion burned to the ground. It is spectacularly unwise to provoke an already unstable witch.

The rest of the village was drawn by the burning building, but their best efforts with their one pump truck and a bucket line were wholly ineffectual against Kyuoko's eldritch flames, and the wood-and-paper building burned down around her. Of course, they saw her standing there amidst the charred timbers, the cracked and blackened remains of her family. The awkward knot of her charcoal lovers was almost an afterthought at that point. Kyuoko was nude, since her clothing- what little she had been wearing- had burned away in the fire, but she was completely unharmed, and the old rumor that she was a witch resurfaced in an instant.

Kohara had come forward then, and told the villagers- twice- that their suspicions were unfounded. That witches weren't real. But once he and Kyuoko were alone, he rounded on her, and said "what you did with that girl was wrong. Unnatural. Never do that again." He said nothing about her dead parents. "What you did with that girl was…"

Kyuoko incinerated her sensei before he could say the next word. She was the way she was, and a forced alteration to her being would have been murder. She had acted purely in self defense, but there was a sort of irrational guilt buried deep in her mind. Kohara had been the first person to care what she thought. She took his gem, and boarded the first ship out of Tokyo. When the crew questioned her, she answered twice that she was supposed to be there, and they left her alone for the rest of the voyage.

She wound up in China then. When Japan started aggressively expanding, she moved further inland, and kept moving until she washed up in Austria. In the chaos of the First World War, she found herself in Germany. In the poverty stricken aftermath, she fled to France, but war followed her again. In 1961, she moved to America.

Throughout her travels, she met no acquaintances and made no friends. If someone got in her way, they died. Messily. Few humans bothered her; she had a sufficiently dangerous look that people rarely felt it was worthwhile to provoke her, and once her reputation got around, most witches were willing to let her pass through without a fight. Their lives were worth more than a few missed Nightmares.

In the centuries that followed, when she was with the CIM mandated psychologist, she would joke that she took the long way west, but there was always something subtly wrong in her eyes. In the psychologist's professional opinion, it had nothing to do with Kyuoko's distant, blood soaked past. Kyuoko never mentioned Kohara's gem. Though the ancients were far too valuable to send to the front lines, and though it is against CIM policy to let emotionally compromised witches in combat, the psychologist kept clearing her for active duty. It helped that Kyuoko always asked twice.

 **AN: stickers for the three followers! also, i know at least one of them has been asking for this chapter for a while, so, hope you enjoy! as always, reviews/follows/favorites are love and they do absolutely guarantee you a place in the new world order (when i finally get off my ass and take over)**

 **also, if you would like trigger warnings for chapters like this in the future, let me know, and i can do. i generally dont include warnings since they are spoiler-y, but if they are helpful/necessary to you, i can accommodate you.**


	11. Chapter ten

**Chapter ten: more things in heaven and earth Horatio**

"We'll need masks," Sayaka says. They're sitting at Kyuoko's dining room table still, and they've gone through another three omelets.

"Why?" Kyuoko asks. "Magic fucks with cameras, remember?"

"Right," Sayaka says. "So you said, but there will still be eye witnesses…"

"I can just tell them to forget," Kyuoko cuts in.

"All of them? How will you know if you miss one?" Asks Sayaka. "Besides, there will be cameras outside the police station, and on street corners, and stoplights if we find a way around all of the external cameras. They could identify us, or at least narrow down the suspect list."

"Can't they track who buys masks?" Kyuoko is picking crumbs off her plate and eating them.

"Not if we use cash at a store that's far enough away that it won't be suspicious based on proximity alone," Sayaka passes the faux redhead her remaining half omelet.

"Ok," Kyuoko says, cheerfully picking up her utensils again. "We'll need the masks generic so they can't just go "who sells these, and we'll need to teleport in so that they can't use their outside cameras. We will probably need real generic hoodies too, right? Help hide the hair, and body type?"

"Yeah," Sayaka nods. "What could go wrong with it? They could see a bit of static or missing people where we teleport from, and maybe put it together from there. I guess we can solve that by teleporting from somewhere secluded where there aren't any cameras?"

"Another witch could pick a fight with us?" Kyuoko suggests. "Or a nightmare? We can use the gem that lets me see powers though. If there's a power, we leave?"

"Alright," Sayaka says. "Keep thinking about things that could go wrong. Let's swap cell numbers in case we get separated."

"We could also get cheap walkie talkies at target or something," Kyuoko replies, offering her phone. "That way they won't be able to trace the calls or whatever, and I'll just melt the walkies afterwards. Phone numbers can't hurt though."

"Alright." Sayaka taps her number into Kyuoko's phone. "Also, no killing."

"What?" Kyuoko exclaims. "How are we supposed to get your friend then?"

"You mentioned a gem that makes people do what you say?" Sayaka hands the other girl both phones. "Can you just say 'we're supposed to be here,' and 'this guy was never here,' over and over while I protect us with really really thick walls of ice?"

"It'll have to be 'we were never here,' or something," Kyuoko shrugs, and accepts the phones. "So they can't say 'two gals in masks magiced that dude out' if they're questioned. It's sound in theory though."

"Alright," Sayaka nods. "What can go wrong with that?" Kyuoko groans and drops her head to the table.

Two days later, the two CIM agents are standing in the Oval Office again. They have been collaborating with the president since his inauguration, but this is the first time since that first day that they carry thick envelopes stamped "classified."

"Mr. President," the big one- agent Jameson- says. "We've got something."

"Excellent!" Rushford says, and claps him on the back. "Stellar work! What is it?"

Wordlessly, agent Jameson passes over the packet. The president glances inside, and sees a photograph of a ruined ice cream shop. There is a hole burned into the floor, and melting piles of ice and snow. Three corpses lie strewn around the room- two corpses and a survivor, the next page informs him.

"We've got a witness?" The president asks.

"Had," agent Lang says. "He disappeared last night. The officers at the precinct remember transferring him to county, three days ago, when they picked him up, and the paperwork is all there, but no one at county yesterday has ever seen him before. Funny thing is though, two of the officers at county called in sick yesterday, and they remember him just fine. The interrogation tapes are missing too, and the security cameras show static for about half an hour yesterday."

"We can find him again," the president says. "Right?"

"No sign of him so far Mr. President," agent Jameson says gruffly. "We'll find him if it's possible though. We've got something else too. The ice cream shop had a security camera."

"So we know what happened?" The president grins hopefully.

"I'm afraid not," agent Lang replies. "We know there were five people at the shop around the time of the event, and we only know what happened to three of them. Two if you don't count the guy that got away. Mike Robertson, his name is. Had a falling out with his parents a few years back, and took up with a famous singer and her groupies- Sayaka Miki. Then there's the owner. He's dead, but there's no cause of death. Guy named William Coyne too. Same deal as the owner. He was part of Sayaka's group too. We were able to verify that miss Miki was there too, and a girl named Jeniffer Knox. As near as we can tell, those four are some sort of ruling clique. We don't know where Mike or Sayaka are, but Jennifer was in class when Mike disappeared. We brought her in for questioning, but we can't pin anything on her, and she claims not to know anything so legally, we can't hold her. We might be able to pull some kind of 'obstruction' charge if we really have to, and with your permission, we don't even need that, but…"

"I see." Rushford thinks for a moment. "Well, following her isn't illegal. What about the ice cream shop footage?"

"No audio," Agent Jameson says. "Near as we can tell, the owner got up to confront the four kids about spilled ice cream or something, then static for a few minutes, and when it clears, everyone's dead or gone."

"Well," the president rubs his eyes tiredly. "Follow the Jennifer girl. It's obvious she knows more than she's letting on. If Mike or Saya-whatever show up, let me know, and get some people following them, but don't try to approach them. If anyone's responsible for this mess, we don't want to put our agents in danger, and I get the feeling we'll learn more from following them anyway."

It's more of a lead than they've had in months, because most witches are metaphorical ghosts like Kyuoko, and very few of them are particularly close to humans' whose lives are so much shorter and so much more peaceful. This will change of course, in a few years, when the CIM discovers that humanity's positive emotions help their witches survive longer.

 **AN: as always, a huge thankyou to my three followers, and an even huger thankyou to foldedhands who is wonderful and reviews each chapter.**

 **sorry this chapter is so short. the next one is about the same length (unless i wind up adding to it before i publish) so, sorry. Also, we're nearing the end of what i've got written, and though i'm trying to write quicker for this story (while maintaining whatever quality i've attained) but i am a pretty slow writer, so updates may slow down a bit. of course, reviews/follows/favorites are massively encouraging, and they will probably speed up the process, but i will not try to hold you guys hostage. if i can stick to the normal update schedule, i shall, follows or no.**


	12. Chapter eleven

**Chapter eleven: to sleep**

Kyuoko didn't want Mike staying at her place. She mumbled something about needing her space, but everyone knows the real reason is that she just doesn't like him. It's funny how society works that way. How we don't say what we really mean on the off chance that we step on someone's delicate feelings. It's one of the most bizarrely inconvenient social mandates, but everything has a reason, if you look hard enough. Why then, if lying is taboo, does our society go out of its way to allow this one, inconvenient command "thou shalt lie!"

In thermodynamics, there is one rule that surpasses all others. Energy may not be destroyed. It may be moved or converted, maybe even dissipated beyond all hope of recovery, but never destroyed. Is there any reason to believe that magic would be any different? Magic is created by strong emotions, well and good. Hundreds of studies have implied that humans have an odd sort of sixth sense when it comes to emotions. CIM wasn't all that surprised to learn that magic is fueled by emotion. So-called "positive" emotions feed witches? Sure. There's plenty of reason to believe that witches are creatures of "good" magic. "Bad"emotions become nightmares? Fine. Witches fight nightmares, there's some sort of logical dichotomy there. Witches can take a nightmare's magic? Ok then, magic clearly can't be polarized like electricity, positive doesn't cancel out negative, but then, why would that be necessary? Is gravity any less tangible for its unipolarity? And there we see law 1b of thermodynamics; magic cannot be created or destroyed.

But what about weaker emotions?

Why should there be a cutoff for "this amount of magic does something, this amount vanishes?" How does that make any logical sense? Here, we come back to the question "why does society go out of its way to approve of one specific kind of lie?" Humans are magical creatures, at least to some degree. This is a given. They produce nightmares, they sometimes get "bad feelings about this," obviously they must both create and sense magic. Not actively necessarily, not even consciously, but that faculty MUST be present in humans. Lesser positive emotions can give off magic in this model- the amount produced might be minuscule, barely visible on the great arcanescope built by CIM in 2135, and too tiny for any witch to notice receiving, but present nonetheless. But what of negative emotions? Where does magic produced by "lesser" negative emotions go? The answer must, necessarily, be "nowhere." It must be present, or the system would simply make no sense. And if witches-creatures of positive magic- are able to internalize, and make use of, positive magic, well then, shouldn't creatures of negative magic be able to do the same with ambient negative magic? This is the theory put forward by CIMrd in the wake of the catastrophic Detroit attack of 2015.

Human society, then, includes this one acceptable lie out of subconscious preservation instinct. Humans can sense the negative energy they are giving off, and on some instinctual level, understand its danger. So when your friend asks if you want to go to that one movie with the really bad trailer, you don't say "nah, it looked horrible." You say, "oh I'd love to, but I've got this thing I've got to do," even though that isn't strictly true. And when Sayaka asks, "Kyuoko, can my friend stay with you for a few days?" Kyuoko doesn't say "no, I can't stand the fucker."

That is how Mike wound up staying at Sayaka's apartment, and that is how Sayaka wound up at Kyuoko's. This is an arrangement that Kyuoko finds quite agreeable, but that is neither here nor there.

"Sayaka-chan, I have something I need to tell you," Kyuoko says, as Sayaka prepares her steaks.

"Hmm?" The younger girl asks absently, cleaning a knife.

"The other day, you asked me to do something for you," Kyuoko runs her slender fingers through her crimson locks. "You know how I can make people do things by asking twice? Well, you were pretty torn up about your friend, and you asked me to make the pain go away. I did, because I… Well, anyway, I did, and you wanted me to make you forget that I had, and it's not really healthy for a witch to feel too bad for too long… I'm sorry. I should have said no…"

"I generally prefer that people do what I ask," Sayaka replies, putting down her utensils, and turning away from her preparations. "Where I'm concerned, at least, that's what I prefer. Thanks I guess. I don't really know how bad it was. Your doing I guess, but thanks. You have to spend power on this sort of thing, so thanks for caring enough to do that."

"Um." Kyuoko says. "You're welcome, I guess. I don't think it's right to do that to… Well, anyone I guess… But I'm glad it helped you?" She doesn't mention that she uses that particular power with some regularity on everyone except Sayaka.

"But if I asked you to make me forget you had ever messed with my mind, why did you just tell me," Sayaka asks.

"I don't know," Kyuoko shrugs. "I felt guilty I guess? I'm surprised too."

"Huh." Sayaka shrugs, and turns back to her preparations. There is a expectant sort of awkward silence, which lasts until Sayaka has the steaks on the stove and can't distract herself any longer. "Kyuoko," she says. "I'm not an idiot. It's pretty obvious you like me. Probably in a romantic fashion." She winds her hands in the hem of her t-shirt. "I've never dated anyone before. I've not even really been interested in it before. I'm not sure I am now? I'm not sure what my sexual preference is, and I'm not sure I even really have one, but I don't want to regret not doing anything about… you, I guess. I feel like in another life, I could be the sort of person that waits too long to do anything about a romantic interest, and I don't want to be that kind of person. I guess, what I'm saying is, will you go out with me?"

"Of course!" Kyuoko launches herself at Sayaka. Before she can protest, Sayaka finds herself caught up in a rib-cracking hug. Uncertainly, she pats Kyuoko-her girlfriend?

Sayaka's phone rings. Sheepishly, Kyuoko releases her.

"This is Sayaka," she answers breathlessly. "Yeah? Oh. Jennifer calm down please, I'll… Yeah? Sure. I'll be there in a bit. Alright." She's frowning when she hangs up.

"What was that about?" Kyuoko asks.

"Jennifer- my friend, I don't know if you remember- she just found out about William." Sayaka scratches the back of her head absently. "She's… upset. She went to my apartment, found Mike. Wants me to come over and explain."

"Want me to come with?" Kyuoko asks.

"Sure," says Sayaka, "I was going to finish cooking your steaks before heading over anyway."

"One of them is yours," Kyuoko says. "If you want it, that is."

Sayaka finishes cooking in silence, planning out what she'll say to her friend. Kyuoko watches her happily, and Sayaka finds that she quite enjoys the attention. The lecherous grin Kyuoko grows as the smell of cooking meat permeates her home quite kills the mood though.

"I'm deeply disturbed by your relationship with food," Sayaka says.

"That's what disturbs you?" Kyuoko asks, raising one perfect brow. "Not the fact that I've killed people? The way I treat food?"

"In a good way," Sayaka grins, "but yeah." They joke like that until the steaks are ready, and would likely continue through the meal, but Kyuoko's mouth is not empty for a moment of it.

They teleport to the alley behind Sayaka's apartment after their meal. Neither of the witches sees the watching CIM agents.

Across the city, Homura Akemi lays flat on an apartment roof, staring calmly down the scope of an oversized matte black rifle.

"Homura?" The diminutive pink haired girl next to her asks.

"Yes," Homura replies before the younger girl can continue. Madoka is used to it by now. "We're the good guys. Don't worry."

"It's just, you kill so many people," Madoka says with a slight frown. "Bad people, I'm sure," she hastens to add, "just, isn't there another way maybe?"

"No." Homura's voice has an inviolable note of finality to it. "There is no other way."

Madoka frowns unhappily, and bites her thumb nervously, but doesn't continue the argument.

 **AN: so, I managed to get this chapter done(ish) on time, much to my surprise. I could have added a bit more, but for story/pacing reasons, most of what else I could add to this chapter should probably be in the next one anyway... also, because I like my pretentious literary quotes, and this quote needs to be finished next chapter... also, props to anyone who can correctly guess the full quote/ where its from off of the extremely vague two word chapter title.**

 **Also, many thanks and also stickers for folded hands who is wonderful and reviews every chapter. they are really helpful to me.**


	13. Chapter twelve

**Chapter twelve: perchance to dream**

Mami Tomoe is one of the most powerful witches in existence. Ancient and supremely skilled. She lasts almost seven minutes against the great brass nightmare of Detroit. Her beloved muskets barely hurt the titanic creature, and her ribbons only slow it down. She dies to a single barbed tendril through her forehead. The nightmare goes on a rampage through Detroit, until, finally, the president feels he has no choice but to deploy the country's nuclear arsenal.

The bombs have no effect against the half-corporeal creature, but they do have an effect on the country. Panic spreads across the nation, and the nightmare grows stronger off the human terror. A small coalition of good-hearted witches tries to stop its rampage just south of Utah. Madoka Kaname is amongst them. They lose. Badly. Madoka dies, lying broken on the great salt flats. Her cheerful, kind, loving, face is torn by terror and pain. She dies, staring up at the sky, and wondering why. Why didn't Homura save her?

Unacceptable. Different plan. Offer assistance to Mami before the brass nightmare manifests. Explain the danger that the brass nightmare poses.

She decides that Homura and Madoka are trying to take her city like so many have before, and she attacks. Madoka dies first. She has the offensive abilities; she is the greater threat

NO

Madoka is warned ahead of time, she goes to the meeting with her telekinetic shield up, but the display of power is seen as a threat. They kill Mami, but Homura has no offensive abilities, and mundane weapons, untouched by magic, cannot be used to harm a nightmare. Madoka can't fight the brass nightmare alone. It lashes out, and she

NONONONO

Unacceptable. Try again. Different plan. Kill Mami, and Kyuoko takes Detroit. Kyuoko is a more flexible witch, she has more gems, and she uses her portal gem to keep titanic rods of concrete in a low orbit around jupiter. But she is confident. Too confident, and she wants to show off for her new girlfriend. Kyuoko doesn't open with her full strength. Her flames are more effective than Mami's muskets, but she only lasts nine minutes, and she remains too confident to resort to any of her trump cards. Sayaka dies from despair forty seconds later.

Try to warn them first. Approach carefully, so you don't provoke Kyuoko. Sayaka is a tempering influence; she hears them out. Homura tells everything she knows about the brass nightmare. She explains how dangerous it is, she relays everything she knows about its powers. She warns Kyuoko that her overconfidence will get her killed- Kyuoko attacks, no, don't tell her that- she explains that it's too strong for Kyuoko to face alone, that her overconfidence will get her girlfriend killed.

They agree to cooperate. They agree that centuries of conflict have made Mami too paranoid to help. Reluctantly, they agree to remove her. Homura executes the ancient witch from almost two kilometers with a high powered sniper rifle. The nightmare manifests, and the four witches fight. Kyuoko opens strong, and Sayaka protects her when she overextends. They are winning, but then Homura- helpless, useless Homura- finds herself in a situation that she can't survive regardless of what she can see. Well fine. Her survival is of secondary importance anyway. Madoka dies from despair twelve seconds later.

NO

Homura stays away from the battle. The three witches fight the nightmare to a standstill. The magical brawl lasts days. The witches sustain themselves off of the lesser nightmares that flock to their great brass champion. On the third day, the president drops his bombs, and wins the fight for the nightmare.

Homura tries to speak with the president. Intentionally falls into CIM's too clean hands and is dissected NO tries to visit the president in secret, is apprehended, shot, the bombs drop, NONONO!

New plan. Try again. Homura murders all of the witches in the country, and takes their gems. She can win now. She isn't so useless in a fight now, is she? Madoka- sweet, loving, naive little Madoka- turns on her, horrified by the bloodshed. She wins. Of course she wins. Homura lets her win. How could she do differently? Madoka dies to the brass nightmare.

FINE

Homura uses Kohara's mind control gem to change Madoka. She doesn't mind the murder so much now… and now she isn't Madoka any more.

It's odd. Between the three of them, Madoka, Kyuoko, and Sayaka, can almost best the brass nightmare before, even the president turns to the nuclear option. If only Madoka didn't die when Homura did, it might be possible. And that is the moment that Homura realized what The Purpose must be.

She opened her eyes, and came out of her trance, and was surprised to find tears on her normally stoic face. There, curled against her side, was Madoka. Her adorable little purpose. Well, Homura didn't need to enact her plan just yet. She could enjoy her little purpose for a few more moments.

"Madoka," she said after a few melancholic minutes. "Madoka, wake up."

The younger girl stirred, sleep still hanging heavy over her. Homura stroked her cotton candy hair, and smiled sadly. "Madoka?"

"Hmm?" She rolled over and burrowed into Homura's soft chest.

"Madoka, you know I love you?" Homura asked. "Right? You'll never forget?"

"Mmm," Madoka said. "Uh-uh. Never."

But Homura knows she will one day. Well, that can be woven into The Purpose. A single selfish letter, set to be delivered in, oh, fifty years or so? But no. It never will be delivered. The postal system will die out entirely before then. Leave it with a private company? No, they will lose it. Well, she was always only of secondary importance.

"Madoka," Homura said (don't cry, she told herself) "I'm going to go kill some people."

"Bad people?" Madoka asked. She sat up, and swayed slightly.

"No," Homura said. "Not really." Half a year later, she is laying on a gravel roof, only a single narrow alley away from Sayaka's apartment.

Sayaka and Kyuoko enter hand in hand. "Hey Jen," Sayaka says. "Hey Mike. What's up?"

"I saw you use magic," Jennifer replies. "I think we all always knew you could, we just didn't want to admit it. We- that's Mike and I- well, we just wanted to let you know, there's nothing you could've done for William." Jennifer tears up, and Mike continues for her. Even his eyes are wet.

"You're the only reason I'm still alive Sayaka," he says. "I saw you fight that… thing…"

"Nightmare," Kyuoko supplies. "They've been getting stronger. We fight them. To protect humans. We fight nightmares to protect humans." She lies easily. Decades ago, she expirimented, and found out exactly how similar the two phrases have to be in order to activate Kohara's gem. "But nightmares are getting stronger and that was a pretty weak one."

"Oh god!" Mike says. "There're more of them?"

"Yes," Sayaka snaps. It's the first time any of them have heard her raise her voice. "And they are born from humanity's negative emotions so calm down, before my apartment becomes a war zone."

Mike's mouth snaps shut like a bear trap.

"I'm… Sorry about William," Kyuoko says. "I mean, I guess. The only time I met him he attacked me, so… Anyway. I can make it so that you don't feel so… Sad? Upset? Whatever it is you're feeling. Not forget him, mind you, that would be cruel, but just not hurt so much? If you want?"

Mike and Jennifer look at her oddly. Sayaka pats her hand.

"Look," Kyuoko snaps. "I'm trying to be nice. I'm not very good at it. If Sayaka weren't here, I wouldn't bother. You want it or not?"

Jennifer nods tearfully. Mike shrugs. "Sure," he says. "Will was my friend too."

"You feel better," Kyuoko commands. She repeats herself. One of the gems exposed on her almost bare back glows briefly. Jennifer stops crying. She sits awkwardly for a moment. Kyuoko scratches the back of her head and shrugs.

"Huh." Jennifer says.

"Yeah," Sayaka says brightly. "So that's a thing. Thanks Kyuoko."

"Um. Kyuoko? right?" Mike asks. "The police station… before you two got there… it wasn't pleasant. I didn't tell them what I saw, since they wouldn't have believed me anyway, and I knew my right to remain silent, but they didn't like that a whole lot. Could you make me forget please?"

"Sure," Kyuoko shrugs, and does so.

"I noticed you two are holding hands," Jennifer says. The conversation is awkward and halting. No one seems to really know what to say in a situation like this. Jennifer tries to steer it back to familiar ground. "Does this mean you're…"

"Dating?" Sayaka asks. "Yeah. We are. She's interesting, and interested in me, and I figured; eh why not?"

"That's wonderful!" Jennifer exclaims. "I'm so happy for you two."

"Figures," Mike mumbles. "Been trying to…"

A loud crack echoes through the crowded apartment. At first, Sayaka thinks someone next door broke a very thick board, then she sees the hole in the drywall, almost a crater. Bits of powdery white hang from strips of torn, rubbery, paint. It's odd, the sort of thing one notices in a stressful situation.

Then she looks at mike. There is a neat hole in his forehead, only about the size of a quarter. Behind him, gooey red and bits of hairy scalp are splattered across her expensive recording equipment. He drops to the floor.

Sayaka screams, more a bellow of rage, than a terrified shriek, but with elements of each. Kyuoko's flames are in her hands, and she's looking around desperately for something that needs burning.

There is another loud crack, and Jennifer's head disintegrates like an overripe Melon. There is another neat hole in the wall. Sayaka yells, and the wall breaks apart under a barrage of icicles. There is another wall, so she destroys that one too. She ignores the CIM agents turning away, shocked, from their screens, and goes through another wall. The alley opens before her like a great chasm. There, across the forbidding gulf, is the Akemi girl standing, and calmly brushing gravel off her front. Akemi grins cruelly, and walks casually away, as if nothing can hurt her. Sayaka hurls a long spine of shimmering ice at the girl's head, but it stops a few feet from its target. The little pink haired telekinetic is there too, but, where Akemi was smiling, she is sobbing.

"Kyuoko," Sayaka says, turning. As expected, the ancient witch is at her shoulder. "I don't want to feel this anymore. Please, please, make the pain go away. Don't make me forget them, and don't make me forget that I WILL kill that Akemi bitch one day, but make the pain go away. If you want to make me love you or lust for you or whatever, go ahead. I need you… God I need you."

"You feel better," Kyuoko says, hugging her girlfriend close. "You feel better. I'm not going to make you love me. I could, but I won't. I think you already do, and I don't want to change you."

"I do?" Sayaka asks. Her eyes are dry, but there is a grim set to her mouth.

"You asked me out," Kyuoko replies.

"I was curious," Sayaka protests.

"You don't seem to have been curious about mike, and you turned to me when you needed help." Kyuoko rubs her girlfriend's shoulders reassuringly. "Isn't that what love is? Knowing you can depend on someone?"

"I'm not sure I'm attracted to you though?" Sayaka wipes her eyes hastily. "What even is love? I thought I loved my friends, but I don't even care that they're dead now?"

"As far as I can tell," Kyuoko says, " you aren't attracted to guys either. Maybe that makes you asexual, but aces can still love. As for what love is? A lot of very smart people have spent a very long time trying to figure that out. One of the people Plato talked to thought that everyone used to be physically joined to someone else, but humans were too powerful, so the gods split them apart, and love happens with the person you were meant to be attached to. That seems to describe us pretty well, doesn't it? We're really different, but we complement each other. You temper me, and I… annoy you I guess?"

"You make life interesting," Sayaka cuts in. "You're someone I can rely on."

"Damn straight," Kyuoko says. "See? And don't worry about your friends. I killed my little sister- mostly by accident- did I ever tell you?" Sayaka shakes her head. "And my parents, and, well, everyone I ever knew. I'm sure I loved at least one of them, but I made myself stop hurting, just the same as you. It doesn't mean I never loved them, just that we're dealing with grief in a… magically assisted way." She turns to the approaching CIM agents, and says, "I don't know who you are with, but if you interfere, I will make you wish you were never born. And that's not just an idle threat like villains in movies use. I will fucking teleport your small intestine to the goddamn moon, and let you die of septic shock I swear to god."

The agents beat a hasty retreat.

"I can't believe you use people you killed as examples for love," Sayaka laughs. It is the kind of stressed, strained, laugh that someone might give when they are emotionally exhausted, but it's a laugh.

"Feel better?" Kyuoko asks.

"Yeah," Sayaka says. "I think so, yeah."

"Still want me to make you love you?" Kyuoko wiggles her eyebrows, and Sayaka bursts out laughing.

"Nah," she replies. "I think you're right. What now?"

"Now, it's time for some nightmare stew," Kyuoko says. "Let's go hunting. And then, we're recruiting some allies. That Akemi bitch might be able to see the future, but that won't help her all that much if we can make sure there is no way she could do anything differently."

"Nightmare stew?" Sayaka laughs.

"Shut up," Kyuoko grumbles. "I'm being smooth. I'm the smooth one. A suave, debonair girlfriend. You all," she turns to the agents lurking round the ruined walls and studiously not paying attention. They all look up. "If I catch anyone following her," Kyuoko gestures to her girlfriend, "or harassing her family, or anything, I will drop the fuck mothering moon on your goddamn White House. And I can read minds and shit, so don't try undercover cops or anything. I'll know. I'm basically god, ok? And I can fly. I'm a flying teleporting mind reading moon dropping god, and you better not mess with my girlfriend, or I will get all Old Testament on your country."

"Can you really fly?" Sayaka asks, once they've teleported safely away.

"Nah," Kyuoko says. "But for all they know, I've got fucking laser eyes."

 **AN: Amazingly, this chapter is also out on time. I blame folded hands and their excellent suggestions/questions.**


	14. Chapter thirteen

**Chapter thirteen: aye, there's the rub**

Nightmares are not particularly common phenomenon. Not before the 2015 Detroit disaster, at least. There are certain spots that are more likely to produce nightmares though- jails, hospitals, cemeteries, densely packed low income housing. One witch can probably check all of these places in one night, in a small town. Maybe. But small towns have fewer humans, and lower population density. The few nightmares they do produce, are proportionally harder to find.

And prior to the 2015 Detroit disaster, most nightmares are short lived. Someone's beloved uncle might die at the hospital while Kyuoko is checking the prison, and the resultant nightmare have done its work and dissipated before Kyuoko got back to the hospital in question. There are fifty three hospitals in Seattle. Most nightmares last only a few hours. This results in an odd phenomenon- two witches working together are more than twice as likely to find a nightmare any time they go out hunting, and teamwork lets them bring down stronger nightmares than either could handle alone. Broadly speaking, it is better to cooperate. Everyone spends less magic, and gets more. Unless one of them takes it all. It's a persistent worry, the few times that an alliance is struck, and that's why, despite the inherent benefits of an alliance, partnerships were fairly rare until CIM stepped in.

It is simple game theory. The prisoner's dilemma. You commit a crime with someone, and the two of you get arrested. The police come to both of you, and say that, as it stands, you will be in jail for three years, unless you make a deal. If you roll over on your partner, they will get nine years of jail time, and you will only get a six month probation period. If you both make this deal though, you both go to jail for nine years. Logically, knowing that your partner is being given the same deal, you wouldn't want to rat them out. It is safest to be the sort of person that wouldn't turn on your partner. Most game theorists agree that, broadly speaking, both parties should stay quiet, and trust that their partner is a sufficiently competent game theorist to do the same. But, assuming you don't have any sort of emotional attachment to your partner, and assuming that they won't do the same, it is much better for you to take the deal.

This can be applied to the "Civil War Phenomenon," as CIM would later coin it. Two witches working together in their hunts can loosely be compared to the first option. It is much more beneficial to both than the constant conflict that plagues witch society. But when witches work together, it is possible for one to get ahead by ruining the other, so witches distrust each other and, when offered this theoretical deal, they will always choose to take it. Sure, there are a few "good" ones who might try to cooperate, but they are almost unilaterally starved out by their more ruthless contemporaries.

It is a small surprise that Kyuoko and Sayaka find a nightmare their first night hunting, but only a small one. It's an odd spider thing, almost twelve feet long. Black, with a blank white circle for a face. It has three eyes, spaced evenly around the disk, and it's legs are long and barbed, jointed in too many places. It lurks on the ceiling in an ICU ward in Harborview Medical Center. The humans can't seem to see it, but Kyuoko can. The gem that allows her to sense powers lets her see when a creature is capable of making itself unseen. She sees that it is feeding off the despair of the patient below, and she sees the doctors and nurses clustered around, wondering why their patient is dying when all the machines say she should be recovering just fine. Kyuoko crouches on the window ledge, uses a pair of portals to mimic transparency, and calls Sayaka.

"Yeah?" Comes Sayaka's voice, distorted by the ambient magic. "Find one?"

"Sure did," Kyuoko replies quietly. "Big bastard. Harborview Medical. Room… 137? You going to need help getting in?"

"Probably," Sayaka says. "I can be there in maybe half an hour?"

"Sure," says Kyuoko. She nods, even though she knows Sayaka can't see her. "Be safe babe. And Sayaka, you know to run if you see that Akemi girl, right? You know not to try to fight her alone?"

"Yeah," Sayaka says. "I'm not an idiot."

"I know," replies Kyuoko. "I know you aren't, it's just, I've read a lot of books. In all of them, if the main character was in your position, and she saw Akemi, she'd attack."

"I'll run if I see Akemi," Sayaka says with a grim laugh. "And Kyuoko, please don't call me babe. It sounds weird. Like you're fetishizing my childish appearance."

"Sure thing sugar," Kyuoko says. "See you soon. I'll meet you outside the ER?"

"Sounds good," Sayaka replies. "I'll see you there." She hangs up, and looks for a cab. Kyuoko is waiting right where she said she would. She's gotten a pair of massive bearclaws from somewhere.

"Want one?" Kyuoko gestures with a pastry when she sees her girlfriend.

"Now?" Sayaka tries to keep it down. "When we're about to… you know?"

"What?" Kyuoko asks. She takes an enormous bite out of one, almost defiantly. "Calms me down. You sure you don't want the other?"

"Pretty sure." Sayaka says tersely. She brandishes her wand. "Where's this nightmare? You promised me nightmare stew." She has a look of grim determination.

"Please let that go," Kyuoko groans. "Right this way. They walk through the plate glass doors, and up to the counter. "We're supposed to be back there," Kyuoko says twice, and the nurse hurries to let them through. They meet a few more medical personnel as Kyuoko leads Sayaka to the nightmare, but Kohara's gem gets them through without incident, and they descend on the nightmare like a hurricane. Wand brandished high, Sayaka freezes the creature in place. Before the assembled doctors can react, Kyuoko severs the creature's neck with the one dimensional edge of a portal. It takes a moment for her to create the portal, but the nightmare can't evade, immobilized as it is.

"We were never here," Kyuoko says, as Sayaka gathers the three dull gems. "Nothing happened." Kyuoko repeats herself, and the two girls leave.

An hour later, they are sitting around Kyuoko's table once more, and the magic is divided up to their satisfaction. "I know a witch in Chicago," Kyuoko says. "The telekinetic I was telling you about. Girl named Hitomi. Green hair. I don't know if it's dyed or natural, but knowing witches, it could be either. We parted on friendly terms; she might help with our Akemi problem."

"My father lives there," Sayaka replies. "I think he and my mother separated, but just don't want to tell me. I bet we can stay with him."

"I'm… Not so sure that's a good idea," Kyuoko says. "I'm not exactly… good with people, and he might react poorly to you dating a girl. I know my parents certainly did. What do we have to eat?"

"I'd make you cinnamon rolls if my apartment wasn't a crime scene." There is bitterness in Sayaka's voice, but not enough to worry Kyuoko. "Let me check what you've got." She stands, and makes her way into the kitchen. Kyuoko follows. "I don't think my dad will mind," Sayaka says after a moment. "He's pretty cool. And if you start cursing, he'll probably just return the favor. Should be fine. Look! I can make zucchini bread! I didn't take you for the sort of person to buy zucchini!"

"That's food?" Kyuoko frowns.

"Yeah," Sayaka narrows her eyes in suspicion. "What did you think it was?"

"Never mind," Kyuoko says hastily. "Let's have this bread stuff! Yosh!"

The next day, they teleport to the airport. Kyuoko looks around suspiciously, and samples the crowd at random with her telepathy, but none of them seem to be looking for the two witches, so she shrugs, and motions to her girlfriend to continue.

Remarkably, they purchase tickets on the next flight to Chicago without a hitch. Kyuoko offers to pay, and overrides Sayaka's half hearted protest, with a muttered "money's easy for me. I read minds, remember? Vegas is a thing."

The two witches get through security without once resorting to Kohara's gem, though Kyuoko doesn't have any means of identification. The TSA agents don't even raise an eye at Sayaka's hastily concealed wand. Out of curiosity, Kyuoko checks their minds, but the only thought she gets- aside from the background chatter of "God, I'm bored," and "that guy looks middle eastern. I wonder if he's a terrorist?" Is the simple, and uninformative "it's above my pay grade."

Their flight isn't for another hour. There is very little that the two witches could speak of that they would like to have overheard, so they don't speak. Eventually, Kyuoko turns to Sayaka and says, "you haven't sung anything in a while. Are you ok?"

"Just fine," Sayaka smiles. What do you want to hear?"

She's never repeated her songs before, Kyuoko knows from her extensive research. Kyuoko shrugs. "I really liked this one song you sang a few months back. I think the guy that posted it called it 'Anarchy?' I don't know if you remember?"

"Yeah," Sayaka nods. "Sure." She stands, and starts singing. It starts off wordlessly. Establishes a pattern. Something simple but pretty. Memorable, and peaceful. Then it doesn't finish. Or the tonic triads are replaced with dissonance. As the tune evolves, a new rythm emerges from the chaos. It isn't predictable, and it isn't comfortable to listen to, but it is beautiful nonetheless. Words emerge. Nonsense at first, things like "moon," or "riding," or "daughter." Eventually, the words too take form. "The moon was a ghostly galleon," she sings.

A crowd gathers- businessmen waiting on connecting flights, and a group of excitable school children on their way back from a college visit. Soldiers, returning from deployment, and mothers with miraculously quiet babies. Someone pulls out a phone and films the whole affair.

When the song ends, there is a small pile of money at her feet, so she buys candy for the children. Kyuoko eats half of it.

Someone in the crowd makes a request, and Sayaka humors them. The requests shower over her, and she sings cover after cover. "Yellow," and "cats in the cradle," and "mad world." "Demons," and "sound of silence," and then her flight is boarding. Kyuoko is grinning ear to ear. Sayaka finds that she quite likes making her girlfriend happy.

 **AN: so, this chapter gave me problems. I'm still not really happy with it, but I'm not quite sure what I don't like, so I don't know where to start fixing it? Anyway, there's not much else I can do, so here you go? Let me know what you think?**


	15. Chapter fourteen

**Chapter fourteen: the OTHER ONE**

The aliens were winning. It was impossible to beat them conventionally, so the beleaguered defendants fall back on their failsafes. It takes a thousand thousand years to exhaust every other option, and a hundred thousand deaths- the majority of their race. They burned up every star to fuel their titanic machines. All but one- a white dwarf held in reserve for the final option. They inverted every black hole to plunder raw materials for their vast armadas, but it wasn't enough. They converted entire galaxies into computers, and constructed minds in those computers.

"What must we do," they asked these incomprehensibly vast minds, but the minds always gave one answer.

"You must activate your last machine."

The war was vast on a scale that mortal minds cannot comprehend. Cannons the size of solar systems were not used, not because it is impractical to build a gun that big, but because it is so much more destructive to simply remove every up quark in your enemy. Missiles weren't used because it simply made more sense to flip time, and the first directional dimension.

Thirty seven thousand years into the titanic conflict, the last lesser species went extinct. The lesser species weren't involved in the war, barely even advanced enough to know it existed. At first, they tried to spare the lesser species. They cited their vaunted morality, but ultimately, victory must come before anything else. Even morality. It started small; a single planet, populated by lesser species, barely advanced enough to reach their own moons. They decided not to waste resources on the defense of a doomed planet, life or no. The FIRST ONE made the decision, but really, any of them could have overridden it. Thousands of years later, the aliens were feeding off the negative emotions of a planet of lesser species, and the decision was made to annihilate the already doomed planet before the aliens could get stronger.

When the last lesser species went extinct, they barely noticed. The star was needed, and the species was in the way.

When every other option was exhausted, there was one machine left. A vast, almost arcane, contraption, buried in the heart of their last dreadnought. The ship itself was only three hundred kilometers long. Tiny, for a dreadnought, but still more than capable of annihilating entire galaxies. The SIDEWAYS ONE piloted it to their last star, held in reserve until this moment. The FIRST ONE gave the order, and the star died.

The ship's circuits groaned with strain, as the last hundred members of their species existed grimly at their consoles- for their species doesn't properly sit. Certainly not while they are working.

The device is a simple cube, only three feet to a side. 2.87732 feet, to be precise, since they do not measure in feet. It thrummed as the entirety of a sun was folded into it. A small sun, yes, but still a titanic, incomprehensibly vast power.

"Do it," the FIRST ONE commanded. It does not speak, for they have no mouths, and no ears. There are no words to describe the method of its communication.

"It is ironic," the OTHER ONE replied in the same manner, "that we, in our folly, eradicated the lesser species, and yet, we must turn to one to save ourselves. It worked the controls, and the device powered up. A pulse of energy, and the scattered atoms- ruined and spent in the great world wink out of existence around the ancient ship. Every inch of the universe outside the ship was folded into a space scarcely larger than a marble deep within the machine, and every tired, dead atom forced to occupy the same space. It is not so hard for these masters of science to convert matter into energy. The device entered its preliminary startup procedures. In the vast, folded space time, a crystal begins to grow. It is not dissimilar to their minds. Time stopped flowing properly, since everyone knows space and time are the same thing, and there was almost no space left.

"It is time to go," the FIRST ONE indicated.

The OTHER ONE signaled its compliance, and entered the machine. The crystal at its core glows brightly- a crystal that would have spanned galaxies, had space been functioning properly. The OTHER ONE's body is dissolved for its constituent elements, and those broken down further for power. It's mind endures within the machine, but only as a caretaker. There will only be room for one of them in the machine, and the OTHER ONE is not the FIRST ONE.

But then, disaster. The failsafes are well designed. Each has only a thousandth of a thousandth chance of malfunction, and there are nine failsafes. Somehow, each fails, and the aliens get into the machine.

The SIDEWAYS ONE ceased to exist. They had less than a tenth of a second. They considered aborting- for their communication is very fast- but no, this was the last chance. So what if they abort? This was their final gambit. There is no energy left in the universe, and no mass, and no space, and no time. There is nothing that can be used as a weapon. So what if they abort? There are aliens in the machine, but there are aliens outside the machine too, and they will win if the machine fails. Continue then. They had only a thousandth of a second left to decide now. There was no time to do things properly. The rest of them ceased to be, fed to the great furnace of the machine, body and mind.

An eternity passed. Or maybe only a second. It was impossible to tell. There still wasn't any space, so time still wasn't working right. The OTHER ONE realized that something had gone wrong when it had two thoughts. It should have been the caretaker for only one moment. For only one non-dimensional point of time. Only long enough for one thought. Pride, probably, unless something went wrong. The victory of "I am sacrificing myself, but in exchange, I get the assurance of victory."

That is not what happened. Instead it had two thoughts. Then a third; "that means I'm the caretaker now."

Then a fourth. "I'm not suited to be the caretaker. It was supposed to be the FIRST ONE."

Then a fifth. "I must do my best. If I'm having thoughts, something is wrong, and the FIRST ONE is dead. I may not be suited for the task, but I'm what we've got. I mustn't refuse this duty just because someone else would have been better suited."

"Let there be light," it communicated, because it needed to see what it was doing. Then, "good. Let there be space, that time may flow properly."

 **AN: I suppose this is more of an interlude than a chapter, but whatever. This was actually written right after the prologue, which is why its so short, but I wanted to save it until my world was a bit more established. As always, reviews make the story better, and follows make it faster.**


	16. Chapter fifteen

**Chapter fifteen: run home to daddy**

Jonathan Miki is in his late fifties, greying at the temples, but still standing straight. He goes on a five mile run each morning. His home is a cozy one story affair, overlooking the lake. It has a wide, greying deck and high peaked roof. The dark shingles are have lost all their color to the oppressive twin hammers of weather and time. the body of the house itself is white painted brick, the corners worn round and repainted a dozen times. The crisp white is dulled, and drab, but clean, and a large thicket of ivy climbs one corner. The house is old, but well loved. The roof doesn't leak, there isn't a draft, it's warm in the winter and cool in the summer.

When Jonathan returns from his run that morning, he sees his daughter sitting on the deck with an odd Asian girl, skipping rocks across the smooth, foggy water. The stranger looks up sharply, and nudges his daughter. They exchange a few words, but Jonathan is still too far to make out what they're saying.

"Dad, hi," Sayaka calls, waving. He jogs over.

"Sayaka!" He grins. "It's really good to see you! Did you send a text or something? I tried to check regularly?"

"Nah," Sayaka shrugs. "It's a spur of the moment thing. I have something to do in town. I didn't think you'd mind?"

"Of course not!" Her father sweeps her up in a great, excited, hug. "You know you're welcome whenever."

"Uh-huh," Sayaka nods.

"I've watched all your songs," he spins her around, and deposits her back on the deck. "I mean, I think I have. The YouTube thing is… complicated?"

"Hey dad?" Sayaka says abruptly. It comes out more like a question.

"Hey yeah?" He frowns.

"I love you dad," Sayaka says.

"Hey, I love you too," he says, and crouches down to eye level with his tiny daughter. "Are you ok?"

"Yeah," Sayaka nods, but there are tears in her eyes. "Yeah, I'm fine." She's crying now. Standing in place, collapsed in on herself, shoulders shaking. "Just, I'm fine, just, I don't want to lose you. I love you so much dad, and I don't want to lose you."

"Shhh," Jonathan hugs his daughter again. "Shhh. I'm not going anywhere. It's ok. What's wrong?" But Sayaka doesn't reply. She just sobs into his arms.

"Another witch murdered her three closest friends," Kyuoko says helpfully. "I think that's what getting to her, but I'm not really a Sayaka expert?"

"Hoooo boy," Jonathan says, patting Sayaka's back comfortingly. "Let's go inside. I feel like we probably have lots to talk about. You ok Sayaka darling?"

"Uh-huh," she nods. "Sorry about that daddy." There are tears in her eyes though, and her breath catches.

"Nah," he shrugs. "Don't worry. Everyone needs a good cry every once in awhile. Here. I'll make hot chocolate like when you were this tall." He holds his hand to the top of her head, and she laughs weakly.

"I'm always this tall," she says with a half-hearted chuckle.

"So, tell me everything," Jonathan says once the hot chocolate is poured, and they are all perched on the soft arm chairs and expansive couch that adorns his living room. They do. Kyuoko, mostly, but Sayaka fills in where Kyuoko skips something she thinks important, or when Kyuoko tries to over exaggerate something. Jonathan is an excellent listener. He nods quietly, most of the time, and interrupts only to ask questions. Kyuoko avoids the story of how she met her girlfriend, and Jonathan doesn't ask. Sayaka cries sometimes, and sits quietly sipping her mug others, but she doesn't laugh, and she doesn't smile like she used to.

The story is finished quickly, and Jonathan is hugging his daughter, and petting her head soothingly. They sit like that for a while, neither talking. Kyuoko stands, after a time, and makes her way quietly out to the back porch. She sits, skipping rocks for what feels like hours. Might be, for all she knows. Finally, Jonathan comes out of his aging home, and closes the door behind him. He sighs, wordlessly makes his way over to Kyuoko, and sits beside her with a weary groan. He sits quietly for a moment, and takes one of the smooth, flat, rocks from her pile.

"You know," he says, "people aren't so different from rocks, right? See, they're all different. Some of them are smooth, and some are rough?"

"The fuck is that even supposed to mean?" Kyuoko grumbles, and snatches back her rock.

Jonathan laughs wryly. "Yeah," he says, "I've got no clue. I just thought it sounded nice? So, how do you know Sayaka?"

"She's my girlfriend," Kyuoko doesn't make eye contact.

"Good," Jonathan nods. "She needs someone that cares about her. I think she's in a bad place right now, you know?"

"You're not mad?" Kyuoko turns abruptly. "You're not upset 'cuz you're never getting a grand kid? Or since girls are only supposed to be with guys or anything?"

"Of course not!" Jonathan snaps. "You think I'm some kind of monster? Oh my god. Is that what your parents did?"

"Yeah," Kyuoko grumbles. "What if it?"

"That's horrible of them," Jonathan pats her shoulder awkwardly. "Kyuoko, right?" Kyuoko nods suspiciously. "Look, everyone needs a family and, well, mine's a bit broken, but, you're the first anyone that my little Sayaka's ever brought home. If you want a place in my family…"

"You're a crazy old man," Kyuoko snaps.

"I am," he laughs. "Yeah. But you're pretty crazy yourself, and my darling daughter seems to like you, so I think I can overlook that, if you can overlook my own craziness?"

"Sure," Kyuoko shrugs. "Whatever." She's trying to scowl, but there's something glad in her eyes.

"So," Jonathan pats her awkwardly on the shoulder, "rocks are kindof like people…"

"Oh shut up," Kyuoko cuts him off, but she's giving a sort of sharp-toothed grin.

Jonathan grins back.

 **AN: wow. this one took me way longer than it should have, and its way shorter than it should be XD Sorry about that.**


	17. Chapter sixteen

**Chapter sixteen: yeah, he's pretty cool I guess**

"Sayaka," Kyuoko throws her arms around her diminutive girlfriend's shoulders, "your father is awesome. Like, sake-awesome."

"Um thanks I guess?" Sayaka snorts, and brushes at her hair self consciously. "Now I've got to… Oh come on dad! Freaking takeout?" She glowers at the refrigerator. "Not even good takeout!"

Her father is out on his morning run, or wisely silent.

"Oh!" Kyuoko yells, and holds Sayaka at arms length. "Your hair! You cut your hair!"

"I…" Sayaka shrugs. "I did. I thought… I did."

"It's all adorable and short!" Kyuoko laughs, and delivers a short kiss to the forehead. "It's all shoulder length now! What made you change it?"

"I thought it looked more mature," Sayaka gives a pleased smile. "I'm glad you like."

"Of course I like," Kyuoko says. "I like everything about you." Her hands drift south, start toying with the hem of Sayaka's shirt.

Jonathan clears his throat uncomfortably. "Are you two… decent?"

"I'm never decent," Kyuoko smirks, right as Sayaka blushes, dips her head, and says "yes, dad."

"Just remember, the bedrooms do lock," he sticks his head around the doorway. His sweaty body follows shortly after. He's holding a newspaper. "Hey, so, apparently there was a bombing in Seattle. Little ice cream parlor- hey, isn't that where you took your mother and I when we dropped you off?"

"Yeah," Sayaka grimaces, and glances at Kyuoko. "I guess so. That sucks. I liked that place. Dad, you've got nothing to eat."

"What are you talking about?" He snorts, and makes his way over to the fridge. "There's… Well that should have been thrown away a… while ago, but look. IHOP. Want a waffle?"

"The fuck you mean that should've been thrown out?" Kyuoko demands, but neither Miki pays her any attention.

"Dad," Sayaka glares at him. "Real food. C'mon. I taught you how to cook."

"Um," Jonathan rubs the back of his head, and Kyuoko wonders if that's where Sayaka picked up the gesture. "I guess we can go shopping."

"No," Kyuoko says abruptly. "You two need to talk. Mister Miki, we discussed this. I'll go shopping. Sayaka dear, do you have a list?"

"Eh. You know what I cook," Sayaka says.

"Good enough," Kyuoko grins. "See you in a few. Mister Miki, no chickening out." She waves jauntily, grabs her wallet, and leaves.

"Well," Jonathan says. "You certainly picked up a firecracker."

"I did," Sayaka chuckles fondly. She grins absently for a moment. "So what did you need to talk to me about?"

"Well," Jonathan begins soberly. "It's about your mother and I. We're um, no longer together."

"I know," Sayaka says. Her voice is neutral. "I'm sorry."

"No," Jonathan replies quickly, and raises his hands. "No no no. It's not your fault sweety. Kyuoko asked about your childhood last night- I think that girl is really head over heels for you- and, well, she thinks you… I don't know how to say this. She thinks you stopped using your magic because your mother and I were fighting?"

Sayaka nods suspiciously, but remains quiet.

"Kyuoko thought you blamed yourself for our problems?" Jonathan is speaking fast. Almost too fast to be understood. "And she thought… Well I just wanted to make sure you know it's not your fault. Your mother and I always knew, and we don't care. You're our daughter. We love you for who you are, your magic just makes you more unique. We fought a lot when you were a kid- your mother and I, that is- but we never fought about you…"

"It's ok dad," Sayaka says. She's smiling again, but she always smiles, and Jonathan can't tell if it's genuine or not. They stand awkwardly for a moment.

"Do you think letting Kyuoko go out alone was a good idea?" Jonathan asks abruptly. "If there's a witch after you two…"

"Eh, I'd be more worried about the city than about Kyuoko," Sayaka says. "she's built tough."

Across the city, Kyuoko is walking from the alley she teleported into, to the grocery, when something pink catches her eye. Pink, feathery, hair, attached to a small naive girl sitting at an outdoor cafe. Not so naive, maybe; it looks like she's been crying. Kyuoko glances around, funneling a torrent of magical energy into the gem that lets her sense powers. No Akemi. Good. She storms over and roughly drops into the seat across from the girl.

"Oh good," the girl says, without looking up. Her voice is rough and rubbery from the tears but she doesn't seem to be crying currently. "You came. Homura said you would, but I just don't know if…" She hiccups.

Kyuoko reaches across the table, and roughly grabs the pink-haired girl by the collar. "What the fuck," Kyuoko says. It's bland and monotone and terrifying. "You antagonize me, sure. That goes with the territory. You got good land, someone will try to take it, but what the fuck are you doing, picking on Sayaka?"

"I…" The girl splutters. "I don't know! I don't know what's with Homura these days. I just wanted to say I'm sorry, and, I don't know. I'll try to keep her away from you two. I don't know why she wanted to follow you to this city, but I'll try to keep her away."

Kyuoko releases her and leans back icily. "What's your name?" She asks.

"M-Madoka," the girl sputters. "Madoka Kaname. I'm so so sorry."

"Tell that to Sayaka," Kyuoko snarls like a feral beast. "I suggest you get out of this city. Hitomi doesn't like strangers any more than I do." She sits silent for a moment. "Why do you put up with Akemi? You seem like a nice girl."

"I love her," Madoka splutters. "I. I'm so so sorry, but I love her."

"No you don't," Kyuoko snarls.

"Beg pardon?" Madoka blinks.

"You don't love Homura Akemi," Kyuoko doesn't blink. "You don't love Homura Akemi." She stands and walks a few paces, turns back. "If you hurt Sayaka again," she says, "I will rip your gem from that pretty little head of yours, and grind it into powder. Do you understand me?"

"Yes!" Madoka nods quickly. "I'm so so sorry."

Kyuoko stalks away, and the humans in front of her move. Quickly. She gives off a dangerous, murderous air, that no one needs a gem to sense. The encounter leaves a foul taste in her mouth, so she gathers her groceries quickly and teleports away without paying. She doesn't go back to Jonathan's beautiful, aging, home by the lake though. Not immediately. She doesn't want Sayaka to see her like this. Her mood reminds her of her years wandering, of her uncaring disdain for humanity, and her brutal efficiency, and she doesn't want Sayaka to see her like that.

Instead, she goes to a park and sits beneath an ancient oak tree. It's been here almost as long as Kyuoko has been in the United States. Longer maybe. She leans back, and enjoys the feel of the rough bark against her too-durable skin, and the feel of the cool blades of grass caressing her bare thighs. It's cool out, and she is scantily clad, but she ignores the temperature.

Kyuoko likes to think of this tree as hers- hers and Hitomi's. It's where they met, chasing the same nightmare, and where they parted ways. Hitomi had agreed to check it daily, in case Kyuoko ever needed her- there hadn't been cell phones in those days.

It was where Kyuoko had confessed her feelings too, and where Hitomi had shut her down. Kyuoko smiles sadly, and closes her eyes.

Crunching footsteps wake her. She cracks one eye lazily. There's a police officer, standing over her, glaring down sternly, one hand on his pistol.

"You can't sleep here," he says sternly, so Kyuoko casually raises a middle finger and closes her eyes again. "There's a shelter three blocks that way," the officer says cooley, so Kyuoko raises her other finger. He chuckles. A deep, rolling sound that creeps higher and higher and finally warps into peals of girlish laughter.

"Hey 'tomi," Kyuoko says. "Got a new gem?"

"Yeah," the girlish voice says. "I warned him. Twice. I think that's fair. I tried not to hurt him, but, well, he was too determined."

"You always were too nice," Kyuoko mutters, sitting up and opening her eyes. "Too damn honorable."

Hitomi always was tall and willowy. Kyuoko has to crane her neck to see her wide, open, face and loose green ringlets. Kyuoko gives the grass an annoyed pat, and Hitomi drops down.

"You look well," Hitomi says. "How's that apartment working out for you?"

"Great," Kyuoko says. "Told you the spells wouldn't break down."

"Huh," Hitomi scratches her head. "Shows what I know, I guess. So what's new with you? It's been a while."

"Thirty years?" Kyuoko laughs. "C'mon. That's not so long for people like us." She sighs. "I found a girl. A witch. Ice powers," Kyuoko says. She flashes a brief, toothy, grin. "Sweet gal. Horrified by the idea of fighting."

"She sounds lovely," Hitomi replies. "Must be new though. Young."

Kyuoko shrugs.

"You cradle robber Kyu'," Hitomi laughs. "I'm happy for you. Even you can't make it through life all alone. I found someone too. Guy named Kyosuke. Witch. He's… Forty, I think? Jesus I'm getting old. Can't use his hands, but his power- he can make the most beautiful music." She gets a distant look in her eyes.

"Mine can too," Kyuoko throws a loaf of bread at her friend. "You figure out YouTube yet?"

"Yeah," Hitomi laughs. It's a high, happy, tinkling sort of sound. "Kyosuke's been teaching me."

"Sayaka Miki," Kyuoko grins.

"What about her?" Hitomi tilts her head absently.

"That's mine. Sayaka goddamn Miki." She grins proudly.

"Her?" Hitomi snickers. "A witch? Well I'll be damned. Tell me about her?"

"She's sweet," Kyuoko closes her eyes again and leans back. "Like really really nice. To everyone. I think she's depressed, but then, what young witch isn't? And she had the oddest friends. Like she just sort of collects outcasts."

"I'm glad for you!" Hitomi squeals. "She sounds wonderful. How'd you meet?"

"She blundered into my territory," Kyuoko laughs. "Didn't even know there were others like her. She sang at my bar actually."

"Damn!" Hitomi laughs playfully. "How'd I miss that? You should have called. Kyosuke would've loved to go, but I guess you didn't know?"

"To be honest, I was going to kill her." Kyuoko grimaces. "I think she figured that out, but don't tell her."

"Oh look at you!" Hitomi giggles. "She's had an effect on you! Tell me tell me tell me!"

"Fine," Kyuoko grumbles. "So, when I hired her- I'd heard nothin but praise about her, so I figured what the hell. But when I hired her, I didn't know she was a witch. Then she sang, and I was going to find her later, drop a couple 'a tons of concrete fuck you on her head, but… I heard her sing, and oh my god. I cried. It was beautiful- don't laugh! You would've cried too. It was so damn sad and so damn beautiful and goddamit 'tomi I will cut you!"

"Sorry," Hitomi laughs. "Sorry. Go on."

"Not much more to tell," Kyuoko shrugs. "I told her to get out of my town, but she looked so damn innocent and so, I don't know, hurt I guess, I couldn't use Kohara's old gem. So she stuck around, and I started feeling- I think it was guilt? I don't know, I thought I offended her. Hell, I prolly did. I think I watched everything of hers on YouTube, and I got to the end- ran out of songs." Kyuoko snickers. "God I was an idiot. Used my tracking gem and 'ported to her apartment. Just stood out there for like an hour before I worked up the courage to knock."

"Watching her shower with that x-Ray gem of yours?" Hitomi snickers.

"No," Kyuoko chuckles. "God no. Been tempted a few times, but no."

"Well I'll be damned," Hitomi says. "You really are in love."

"Goddamn yes I am," Kyuoko affirms. "God I was a mess that first night. So nervous I could barely talk. Jesus. She must have thought I was such a nutcase. Ahem. Enough about me. Tell me about you and this Sookie guy?"

"Kyosuke," Hitomi laughs. "I met him in a hospital of all places. The wasting was getting to him. The, uh, not having enough magic? Kyosuke and I've been calling it the wasting. This was, oh, twenty years ago almost? Anyway, I was hunting nightmares, and there was one near his room. Big bastard- they've been getting tougher, I think- and anyway, the fight got out of hand as he saw most of it. I think I told him something like 'I was never here,' you know, in my raspy scary voice, and"

"Your batman voice," Kyuoko snickers.

"Pardon?" Hitomi asks.

"Never mind," Kyuoko says. "Go on."

"Um," Hitomi glares down suspiciously at Kyuoko. "Right. So, anyway. He just laughed, and said 'bullshit ma'am.' I ran. Didn't even know he was a witch, but I kept justifying going back to that hospital on my hunts, just so I could look in on him. Well, anyway. I saw him on the roof one day- they've got a garden on the roof, how cool is that! And he was sitting on a bench, feeding the birds, and making the most beautiful music. Not singing, just, like, conjuring it. God. It was beautiful, and I couldn't stay away. Like a goddamn siren. Anyway, I dropped down next to him, scared the bejesus out of his poor birds, and he just looked up and smiled and said 'good day ma'am. Am I to assume you weren't here today either?' God. I guess music is the way to a witch's heart."

"Look at us," Kyuoko laughs. "Pair of old ladies."

"Oh god we are," Hitomi groans good naturedly. "Well, we've got to change that."

"We do," Kyuoko is abruptly standing.

"I've got this hair dye," Hitomi grins. "Electric blue. Let's do something crazy! Wait… Hang on. Not seen you in like thirty years and you pop out of the blue. Kyuoko. What's going on?"

"It's…" Kyuoko sighs. "I was going to say 'it's complicated,' but it isn't really. There's this witch pair. Telekinetic and a pre-cog. The don't seem to want my territory, but they're following Sayaka around killing her friends and, well, pre-cogs are tricky. I don't think we can take them alone."

"So you came here for help," Hitomi says. "And here I thought you just wanted to catch up."

"I do," Kyuoko protests. "We were going to talk to you together, but I had a rough day and I just wanted to goof around. Like old times, 'tomi."

"Huh," Hitomi crosses her arms sternly, but there's laughter in her face. It drains away. "I can't," she says. "If it's a pre-cog, it'll know we're talking, and it'll know what my answer is. Kyosuke is alone and defenseless. I can't say yes. They'll see, and I'll come home to a bloodbath."

"It's alright," Kyuoko says. "I didn't know you had someone. If he's half as important to you as Sayaka is to me, of course you can't endanger him."

"Thanks for understanding," Hitomi says sadly. "Hey, we shouldn't leave it thirty years again. I missed you. Let's get together again before you leave. All four of us. You, me, Kyosuke, and Sayaka. I'm sure they'd love to make music together."

"Sure," Kyuoko nods. She picks up her basket of groceries. "Well…"

"Hey," Hitomi protests. She's silent for a moment. "I've still got that hair dye…"

Kyuoko grins. "Eh," she says. "What the hell. I'm in."

 **AN: well this took forever. Sorry. I started another story which wound up getting thirty times the follows of this one, and that proved a bit distracting... hopefully I can get back into a more rigorous update schedule.**

 **As always, reviews make the story better, and encourage me to write more.**


	18. Chapter seventeen

**Chapter seventeen: murder most foul**

"Sayaka, I'm home," Kyuoko calls. She leaves the basket of groceries on the counter. "Darling?"

"On the porch," comes the faint reply. Kyuoko follows it back to its source. Sayaka is laying on a deck chair, eyes closed, listening to the sound of the waves.

"Sayaka, look," Kyuoko says. "I'm a blunette too now!"

"Ugh," Sayaka groans. "Please no. Don't ever use that word. Ugh."

"What word?" Kyuoko drops down next to her. "Now? Too?"

"Bluenette," Sayaka says it like a curse. "People that add 'ette' to the end of a color should be arrested." Sayaka nods firmly. She opens her eyes. "Good. It's just the tips," she says. "I like your hair. It shouldn't all be blue."

"Oh," Kyuoko says. "Do you not like it?"

"I like everything about you," Sayaka says with a grin. "You were out a while. Run into trouble?"

"Yeah," Kyuoko stands. "A pink haired problem. A pinkette," she wags her eyebrows at Sayaka. Sayaka groans. "She doesn't seem like a bad person. Just picked the wrong person to love. Like you I guess."

"I picked the right person," Sayaka says firmly.

"Well," Kyuoko splutters. "Anyway. I think Akemi is the problem. I saw Hitomi too. Not it the same place, obviously. She wants to meet you."

"Alright," Sayaka says. "Will she help us?"

"No," Kyuoko replies. "She wants to I think, but no. Just wants to arrange a gathering. She's nice. I think you'll like her."

"Alright," Sayaka says again. "When?"

"Tomorrow," Kyuoko ruffles Sayaka's hair playfully, earns a warm smile. "What you up to?"

"Just listening," Sayaka shrugs. "I used to always come out here, when my parents were fighting. I'd just sit here and listen to the waves."

"Sounds nice." Kyuoko picks a deck chair.

The next day, they're standing under Kyuoko's tree. Sayaka runs her hands up the bark.

"It's pretty," she says.

"I remember when it was this tall," Kyuoko smiles, and takes Sayaka's hand. "Wispy little thing. 'Tomi said it was going to die, but I came by every night with a bucket of water and a sack of fertilizer. Hell, I probably did more harm than good but the damn tree lived."

Sayaka delivers a brief hug, and pulls back. "Can you use that power-sensing gem?" She asks. "I'm worried."

"Sure," Kyuoko laughs. "Hitomi's nearby, and that must be Kyosuke- her boyfriend? Lover? Fuck if I know. No murder bitch though."

"Good," Sayaka sighs. "Thanks. That's Hitomi? With the green hair?"

"Yeah," Kyuoko nods. "I guess that's Kyosuke in the wheelchair?"

The two witches get closer. Hitomi is pushing the wheelchair, but the strain of it doesn't show on her face, eclipsed as it is by her dopey smile. Kyosuke is small, almost shriveled, but not by age. His hands are bandaged, but there's something strong in his face. There's the outline of bitterness too, but it has been smudged over by adoration. "You must be Kyuoko," he says. His voice is deep, but smooth. Like a fine wine. "I've heard so much about you. And of course, miss Sayaka. I've seen all your videos."

"Um, thanks," Sayaka blushes.

Hitomi grins happily. She looks between the two of them. "You two should music together!" She squeals. "It would be so…"

There is a loud crack. Another. Another. Hitomi looks up in horror as something warm and sticky drips down her face. She's unharmed though- her gems would be draining her magic to repair her if she was. A rattling, rasping noise comes from the chair she's pushing. She looks down. Kyosuke reaches up feebly, brushes her face with one wrapped hand. A choked sob claws its way out of her throat like a horrible rodent.

There's a thick icy globe surrounding the four of them now, Sayaka's innocent face is distorted by a frown of concentration, and a rage-filled snarl. There, on the other side of the park, is Akemi. She wears a suit, bespoke and well-tailored, and carries some sort of short rifle. She raises it to her shoulder coolly, dispassionately, and squeezes off another few rounds. They leave wild cracks in Sayaka's shield, but the shield holds. There's an odd tube slung across Akemi's back.

"How is he?" Kyuoko asks. She takes Sayaka's hand and gives it a squeeze.

"He's, oh god!" Hitomi sobs. The afternoon sun seems distant and dim. Humans scream and scatter. Akemi turns, and coldly shoots one in the back- a child. He was holding an ice cream cone. It drips onto the grass as it falls. It's funny how important that is to Sayaka.

"He's dead!" Hitomi shrieks. She's not talking about the child. "Oh god!" One of her gems is glowing brightly through her shirt, and she's pouring some sort of reddish energy into the corpse in the chair. Sayaka knows, somehow, that she's trying to heal her lover, but Hitomi's tortured sobs tell her that it won't work. That Hitomi knows it won't work. "Oh god!" Hitomi is saying over and over again.

Sayaka's mind is clearer than she thinks it should be. She thinks she should be paralyzed by fear- or rage- but all she can feel is a cold detachment, and a distant hate.

"'Tomi," Kyuoko snaps. "Hitomi. Stop. You're wasting magic." There's another crack, and another child drops dead. She leaves a shiny red balloon drifting up serenely into the sky. Kyuoko grimaces. "Hitomi. Stop."

Hitomi's futile magic stops. She glances over, and there's something lost in her expression. Sayaka looks coldly around, and freezes Kyosuke solid. "Best I can do," she says shortly. "Cryogenics. Hopefully. Maybe one day, someone can fix him. Kyuoko, plan? You've fought witches before." There are men in suits all around, on the rooftops, and lurking in alleys. Maybe twenty, all told. She points, and Kyuoko nods.

Akemi whirls, and her rifle cracks. One of the agents drops. There's a deep frown of concentration etched across her arrogant sneer. She shoots again, and another agent dies. There's a hail of return fire, but it stops dead in the air a few feet away from the witch. There, in Akemi's shadow, lurks the sobbing Madoka.

Homura unslings the tube, raises it to her shoulder.

"Sayaka," Kyuoko cries. Sayaka doesn't reply, but she does grit her teeth and thicken her shield. There's a low "chuff" noise, and a rocket streaks across the park. It hits Sayaka's shield and detonates. Bits of ice ricochet around the park, and Sayaka is thrown backward. Kyuoko lets out a howl of rage, and the sky tears. The air rushes upwards, a whirling gale. Through the hole in the sky, the gently swirling surface of jupiter is just visible, and a massive concrete rod, growing swiftly larger.

Then Sayaka moves, and groans. "Kyuoko," she says, and Kyuoko turns. "No collateral," Sayaka says. "Don't hurt the humans." She's standing slowly, and blinking. The sky closes, but it still seems too dark. Sayaka raises the shield again, and a thin ribbon of blood trickles from her nose. "Plan?" She groans.

"We kill the Akemi bitch," Kyuoko says. "Hitomi? You with us? You useful?" Hitomi stands, wide eyed and numb, but she nods. "Alright," Kyuoko says. Sayaka glances nervously at the sky. "I'll take point. Sayaka, cover me if you can. Hitomi!"

The green haired girl stares absently into space, her skin is ashen and magic is leaking out of her like a punctured wine skin. She sways, falls to her knees, and the sky darkens.

"Goddamnit," Kyuoko curses. "God fucking damn it. Fuck you God!" She screams at the sky. "Hitomi, snap out of it," she says. She repeats herself. "Pull yourself together!" She repeats herself again. Hitomi looks up blankly. "You feel better you feel better you feel better. You're happy you're happy you're happy. Sayaka, Hitomi's a dead weight. Can you carry her?"

Sayaka nods firmly, and lifts Hitomi to her feet. Sayaka didn't know she could until Kyuoko asked her. She would do anything Kyuoko asks, impossible or no.

"Ok," Kyuoko says. "Can you move the shield?" Sayaka nods so she continues. "Excellent. Last charge of the Green Berets. You ready?" Sayaka nods again, but then the world changes.

The darkness resolves into a colossal patch of static, bristling with a dozen eyes. "Pfah," it says, and a wave of blackness annihilates a family.

"I can stand," Hitomi says numbly, so Sayaka drops her.

Dimly, Sayaka notices the little pink-haired girl sobbing, saying something she can't quite hear, dragging Akemi away by the arm. "New plan," Sayaka says. "We lost. We'll do better in round two, but innocents are in danger. Kyuoko, the nightmare. Can we beat it?"

"It's big," Kyuoko says. She bites her lip. "Bigger than anything I've seen before, but with the three of us? God, think of the reward."

"Right," Sayaka says. "Plan?"

"You…" Kyuoko swallows. "You distract it. 'Tomi, keep it off her. Sayaka freeze as much of it as you can, and I'll finish it. Go!" She teleports away, Sayaka doesn't know where.

Sayaka grits her teeth, and fires a javelin of ice at the monster. It turns toward her. She doesn't know how a shapeless mass of static can properly "face" anything, but it does.

"Pfah," it says, and her shield shatters, but Hitomi's telekinesis gathers the razor shards and hurls them back. Sayaka tries to freeze it, but nothing happens. She can feel her magic dwindling, but she can't think about that now. There are innocents in danger. She concentrates, and it snows. A heavy wall of white, pressing down on the creature. That distracts it, at least, but then it's retaliating. Sayaka knows, with crystal clarity that she is about to die, but then there's Hitomi. She lifts the fresh snowfall, blocks its attack. The snow burns away, but Hitomi has grabbed the blackness, and thrown it back in its face.

"Come on," Hitomi says. Her voice is dead, like her eyes. "Get up. You're a witch. An agent of the Other One. That is your prey. You won't die to it, because if you do, Kyuoko will kill me, and I won't get my revenge on the pre-cog."

Sayaka nods firmly, and raises her hands, but then there's Kyuoko. A dozen portals form within the nightmare while it's distracted. Her flames leap from them like living creatures, and tear it apart from within. It shrieks, and lashes out, but Hitomi grabs its attack again, pulls it back in on itself. It shrieks again, turns back to her, but a raging orange typhoon punishes it for turning its back on Kyuoko. It learns- that's the most dangerous part about nightmares, is that they learn. It attacks Hitomi again, while she's gathering her strength for another push, but Sayaka has recovered some in the respite, and she raises a shimmering barrier of ice. It howls, pounds ineffectually against her wall, and rounds on Kyuoko again. But Kyuoko is ready for it, and it eats a face full of white hot wrath for its trouble. Hitomi reaches out with her telekinetic might, and seizes hold of the battered turf of the park. She hauls up, and half-buries the creature in grassy mud. It howls again, moves up to escape, but Kyuoko teleports above it, and drops an inferno down on it. Hitomi grabs that inferno, turns it in on the creature, leaves it nowhere to go but in. The nightmare howls again, and dashes down. "Pfah," it says again, and shatters Sayaka's wall with its terrible darkness, but Hitomi grabs the shards, and Kyuoko teleports her to safety.

It's a rule of magical combat, that you conserve your strength. If something is already a weapon, use that. If there's an easier way to do something, do that. If there's a way to turn an attack back on its caster, that's cheaper that building your own. Kyuoko and Hitomi are some of the most skilled witches in existence. Sayaka isn't, but the other two witches cover for her mistakes, and she is strong. As for Kyuoko and Hitomi? They work together like a veteran sports team. If one has the ball and can't make the shot, they pass. They don't go for a shot they can't make, and they don't overextend. It's a thing of beauty, their teamwork. Everywhere the nightmare turns, it gets stung, everywhere it attacks, it gets stung. It's strong. The strongest nightmare anyone has ever seen, and no individual attack hurts it all that badly. Kyuoko expected her opening move to destroy it, and it doesn't hold still long enough for another like it, but everything it tries results in another sting, and a hive of ants can bring down a wolf, with enough time and determination. The creature dies. Not quickly, and not cleanly, but tattered and shredded by a thousand pinpricks, it loses cohesion and leaves it's bounty on the burned and torn turf.

"'Tomi," Kyuoko gasps. "How much is yours? What's fair?"

"Nothing," Hitomi says absently. Her face changes. She's a little old lady now, with a basket of apples. "Keep it all. With luck, this'll let me get close to the pre-cog. See you on the other side." She limps off- her leg got cut in the conflict. No one noticed.

"'Tomi," Kyuoko groans. "She's a goddamn pre-cog. That… You know that won't work, right?" Hitomi shrugs. "Hitomi sleep," Kyuoko says grimly. "Hitomi sleep." The girl collapses. "Sayaka, you alright?"

"Yeah," Sayaka pants. "Think so, yeah. We got it! We killed it! Did- did any more innocents die?"

"Don't think so," Kyuoko says. "Don't think so. Damn! Fuck yeah! Fucking fuck! That was. Fuck!"

"You-" Sayaka is doubled over, gasping for breath. "You got that right. Fuck."

"Next time," Kyuoko says. "Good job, but next time, save your magic. That snowfall was wasteful."

"Yeah," Sayaka straightens up, winces, doubles back over. "Yeah, I kinda figured that out."

"Good job with that wall there, though," Kyuoko tosses her one of the creature's eyes. "Here. Good job. That probably saved 'tomi. I don't think she meant to live through that, but good job."

"Thanks," Sayaka says. The milky white orb crumbles to dust. She stands up straight, and wipes the blood from her lip. "Thanks. You were incredible." Kyuoko grins fiercely.

"What… was that thing?" One of the agents limps over.

"I distinctly remember something about moons and white houses," Kyuoko grumbles. "It was a nightmare. We fight them. Us witches. We fight them. They hunt humanity, we hunt them. They're horrible monsters, and it's our job to stop them."

The agent nods. "Agent Lang," she holds out her hand. Kyuoko eyes it warily, as if it were a venomous snake. "Ahem," the agent says after a moment. "What about the gun girl?"

"She's a monster too," Kyuoko says. "We're nothing like her." Kyuoko repeats the lie. "She a witch, sure, but she… She doesn't fight nightmares, she just. Well, there are good witches, usually. Like there are good hu- er, people? Usually, we just go after nightmares, but, well, there are bad people too, and I guess bad witches. We're trying to stop her. She's a monster."

"She's a monster," agent Lang agrees. "What will you do?"

"Keep killing nightmares," Kyuoko shrugs. "Protect humanity. What else can I do? If we can, we'll stop Akemi, but. Well, fuck."

"Fuck," agent Lang agrees. She thinks a moment. "I guess there will be problems if we try to bring you in?"

"Problems?" Kyuoko gives a short, humorless laugh. "Hell yeah there'll be problems. We're the good guys, you and me. We're the good guys, and we've got to work together."

"Yeah," agent Lang nods slowly. "Can't stop you anyway I guess."

"Damn straight," Kyuoko nods. Sayaka has gathered up the creature's eyes by now. She staggers over to her girlfriend.

"So what now?" The agent asks.

"You fuck off and let me do my job is what's now," Kyuoko growls.

"Play nice," Sayaka says tiredly. "What now?"

"Now we find Mami goddamn Tomoe," Kyuoko says. "We fix Hitomi, and we go all Rambo on that Akemi bitch."

"Rambo?" Sayaka snickers. "Nightmare stew?"

"Suave and debonair," Kyuoko grumbles. "I'm suave."

Seven hundred miles away, president Rushford rubs his eyes tiredly. "Potato jam," he says. "That'll be our code word. If they can change their faces, we need a code phrase, right?"

"Yes sir," agent Lang nods. "Potato jam."

"God." President Rushford thumps his head down on the desk of the Oval Office. "Nightmares?"

"I saw it sir," Lang says. "Don't know where it came from, but it was horrible. Drove a dozen of my men mad. I don't know if they'll ever recover. It killed too sir. She was telling the truth. She's on our side."

"Those are some pretty wild assumptions," the president says. "But it did look like they were trying to help. From what I've been told, that is. Goddamn camera malfunction again."

"Yes sir," Lang says. "We think miss Miki and target two were meeting old acquaintances. The man in the wheelchair and target three. It sounded like they were looking for help against Akemi. I don't think they knew we were listening the other day. I don't think they had any reason to lie."

"And we're sure there's not a mixup?" President Rushford rubs his eyes again. "We're sure this Akemi isn't the good guy?"

"She shot children, sir," Lang says stiffly. She speaks formally, but her eyes show pain and helplessness. "Sir, she shot children!"

"I…" The president winces. "Goddamn."

"It was deliberate and unprovoked," Lang growls. She kicks the desk, and winces apologetically. "She was fighting the other four, and she took time out of her fight to turn ninety degrees and shoot children. Miss Miki and target two? They're the good guys. I'm sure of it. They're a bit odd, sure. Target two is a crass ass… Pardon the French," she blushes.

"It's fine," Rushford says tiredly. "We're all under a lot of stress."

"Target two is untrusting and crass, but I don't think she's evil. I think she's trying to help humanity." Lang sighs. "I say we trust her."

"Sure," Rushford says. "All the evidence is in their favor. God! Akemi shot children! It's like she's trying to be evil. God! Yeah, we trust Miki and target two. What else do we know?"

"Target two is a ghost sir," agent Lang says. "Target three too. No idea where they came from. We're reviewing traffic footage and all the CCTV we can get our hands on, and they're old. Older than they look, those two. Not sure how old. Target four- the man in the wheelchair- he was a patient in Westfield Hospital some forty years ago. Looked the same as when we found him. That part of their story lines up. It's in the file, sir?"

"Of course," Rushford makes the "keep going" gesture.

"From the conversation between target two and three the other day, and from the conversation between Miki and target two, we think they're very very old sir." Agent Lang wrongs her hands unconsciously. "They- we think they live hundreds of years naturally, maybe longer. We've not seen any evidence that they age at all. Target three said Miki was young, when they talked about her kindness, and her unwillingness to fight- we can only guess they were talking about these nightmare things, maybe Akemi? We think this indicates they fall in battle against these nightmare things with some regularity, but that's just speculation sir."

"Ok," Rushford says. "Alright. Damn, I wish they were a little less skittish. We could really use more information. Damn."

"Sir," Lang says. "With all due respect-" she doesn't have to lie here; she really does respect Rushford. The first president that confronted the terror of the arcane head on, and led. The first one that worked with them, didn't ignore their presence. "I think they're justified in being a bit skittish. They called themselves witches. Remember the witch burnings? I don't blame them, sir. If I was some kind of magic, immortal, protector… Well, I can definitely see a lot of people trying to blame them for the nightmares."

"You make a convincing argument," Rushford groans. "How the hell do we… Alright, keep on it. Don't spook them, if you can help it, and definitely don't antagonize them. If today-" he glances at his watch, "-yesterday proved anything, it's that these nightmare things are a threat. A pretty big damn threat. We need- the United States needs these witches."

"Yes sir," Lang nods. "That was our thinking too."

"And get me more information!" Rushford stands, and straightens his suit. "God I need to sleep."

Everyone hears about the fight in Chicago. It was a massive brawl in a major city with hundreds of witnesses. Some people cry "terrorist attack," others claim conspiracy. The witnesses agree that magic was involved, but very few people believe them. It doesn't help that there was no footage of the fight. Everyone hears about the fight, but no one knows what to believe. They wait for the presidential address.

"People of America," president Rushfords face is on ten million screens. He looks tired. There are deep bags under his eyes. His suit is expensive and well-tailored, but wrinkled. It's an honest look. It's the look that got him elected. Not the rumpled, disheveled, appearance, but the candor. The easy charm. He sighs. It's a tired sound. "Today is a day of mourning," he says. "Fifty three men, women, and children. That's how many people died in yesterday's attack- and make no mistake, it _was_ an attack. Two hundred and thirty seven. That's how many were injured. Someone has attacked our great nation, and mark my words, we will not take this sitting down! We don't know much about what happened," a single tear rolls down his cheek. In 2023, his speech was declared one of the greatest in the history of the nation. On par with his "when in the course of human events," speech and the Gettysburg address. It wasn't his words that moved the nation so, it was his delivery. "We don't know what happened, we don't know who was responsible. We know it wasn't a terrorist attack, but we don't know who did this horrible thing." To the listeners, it was a great tragedy. Only a few hundred casualties? It should have been forgotten in the wake of the next overseas bombing, but Rushford's words made people _angry_. He made them united and determined. "Our best agents are looking into it. The sort of men and women that you never hear about in the news, because their work is that important. Rest assured America, we _will_ find the ones responsible." He takes a deep breath and straightens his suit. The viewers get the impression he came to them as soon as he knew anything. "I want to take a moment- I want to take a moment to extend our great country's gratitude to four very special individuals. Four heroes. Kyosuke Kamijo. He gave his life for his country. He died to save others. People he didn't even know. Our country thanks you. We salute you. Thank you for your sacrifice, Kyosuke." He pauses. Looks down at the podium. President Rushford is broken with grief. He looks up, and the viewers see his determination beat out his grief. They are inspired to follow his example. "Sayaka Miki, Kyuoko Sakura, Hitomi Shizuki. When everyone else ran, when everyone was dying around you, you gritted your teeth, got up, and did what you had to. In the face of impossible odds, you put yourselves in harm's way to protect the innocent. None of you are soldiers-" seven hundred miles away, Kyuoko snickers, "-but that is the soldier mentality. When I served in the army, I heard this, over and over again; 'we fight so they don't have to.' That describes you. The tragedy would have been so much worse without you. Your country extends its gratitude." He closes his eyes for a moment. "Rest assured America, we will find the ones that did this, and people like those four heroes will be there, waiting to avenge our dead. We will triumph, America, because we are a country of heroes. That is all." Not "no questions, please," nothing. Just "that is all," and a tired slump of his shoulders before the camera cuts off.

 **AN: well, I would apologize for the double post, but its not like I am picking up more follows by waiting, so there's no real reason to make anyone else wait, now is there? Anyway, I felt kindof inspired, so, hope you enjoy? No guarantee when the next chapter will be ready, but I will absolutely finish this story eventually!**

 **Props also to folded hands who continues being awesome despite the long hiatus, my general arrogance, and probably something else too for that nifty "three reasons" thing that seems to make sentences so fun?**


	19. Chapter eighteen

**Chapter eighteen: of bad things and good people**

"Hitomi," Kyuoko frets. "You've got to eat something." She holds a plate of meatloaf beneath Hitomi's blank stare.

"Why?" The green haired girl asks blandly.

"Because you'll fucking die if you don't!" Kyuoko kicks the table.

"Hitomi," Sayaka glares across the table. "Would Kyosuke have wanted you to die?"

Hitomi shrugs.

"Come on," Kyuoko says. "Don't make me use Kohara's gem."

"Do it," Hitomi shrugs.

"I…" Kyuoko splutters. "Um…"

"Girls," Jonathan says kindly. His aging face is lined with more than wrinkles. Kindness. Kyuoko wonders if that's where Sayaka learned to be kind. "Let me take care of this. Go wait outside." Sayaka shrugs, and stands. Kyuoko slams the plate down on the old table, and storms off.

"Kyuoko," Sayaka says, once they're out of earshot. "She'll be fine. I don't know why you're 'you feel fine' didn't work, but…"

"It didn't work because…" Kyuoko sighs. "When you spend that long with someone- someone you love that deeply- it takes more than a few beliefs to fix you. She believes she feels fine, but everything reminds her of him. She might've… Fuck. Witches usually die when their lover does. Did you know that?"

Sayaka shakes her head mutely.

"It's true," Kyuoko says. "I told you before, that magic and emotion are linked. Magic is, I don't know, positive emotion? The kind we use at least. Nightmares seem to use negative emotion, and we can use their power, if we kill them for it, but in us, it's positive, and if you can't feel anything positive, how do you think you can hold onto your magic? It's a sort of vicious cycle. Lose enough magic, and your mood goes bad- or vice versa- and when you hurt that bad, you lose magic, and when you lose magic… I can't replace her lost magic if she won't take it, and she won't take it. I tried telling her to, I used Kohara's gem, but you have to want it. You have to want to be happy in order to feel happy, and… I shouldn't have told her she was happy, back at the park."

"You did what you had to," Sayaka replies. "You needed to get her up and fighting, and you did what you had to."

Kyuoko reaches over and takes her hand, but doesn't say anything. They go out on the porch, because where else are they supposed to go? It's peaceful, but there's a tension in the air. Neither witch speaks.

After a little more than an hour, Hitomi teeters out onto the balcony. "Kyuoko," she says stiffly.

"Hitomi," Kyuoko cracks a smile, and quickly hides it under a stern glare.

"I'll take that magic now," Hitomi sits carefully, as if she's made of china, and she's afraid that any swift movement will break her. Her eyes are red and puffy.

Kyuoko digs four milky white spheres from her deep coat pocket, and wordlessly passes them over. She sees Hitomi weighing them in her hand, and eyeing the lake. Hitomi nods once, and sits beside them. "Where are the other eight?" She asks.

"Sayaka got four, I got four," Kyuoko says carefully. "We thought that was fair. Four should keep you going for months."

"I know," Hitomi nods slowly. "Just curious." She stares down at the four spheres for a while. Abruptly, she grimaces, and they disintegrate.

"Did you eat?" Sayaka asks, not unkindly.

Hitomi glares over at her. "Baby steps," Hitomi smiles sadly. "I'll try to eat tomorrow."

"That's fair I guess," Sayaka says. "What did my dad say to you?"

"Some of it, I think I'll keep to myself," Hitomi says. "The rest, well, he reminded me that someone took Kyosuke from me, and that the Akemi bitch is still out there. I'll pull through long enough to see her dead, at least. Kyuoko?"

Kyuoko nods encouragingly.

"You love Sayaka," Hitomi says. "I had that, and now I don't. It's the greatest feeling in the world, isn't it?" Kyuoko nods uncertainly, so she continues. "You know how great that is? Now imagine it inverted. Take all that happiness, and turn it to grief."

"Oh god," Kyuoko gasps. "Oh god." She looks like she's going to be sick.

"Don't ever lose Sayaka," Hitomi says. "Don't ever lose her. We like to think we're so invulnerable, but the truth is, she can be gone so fast. When we see Akemi again, be careful. Protect your Sayaka. Don't let Akemi take her too. I'm going to kill Akemi, and I would hate to have to fight you for that honor."

Kyuoko nods seriously. "I will protect Sayaka with my life," she says.

"I'm right here," Sayaka grumbles, but she doesn't look all that unhappy. Hitomi ignores her.

"So what's the plan?" Hitomi asks. "You better have one, or I'm changing my face and going after Akemi right now."

"We do," Sayaka says quickly. "We're going to Detroit."

"Yes," Hitomi grins. It's not a happy sort of grin, and Sayaka shudders. "Lead Akemi to Mami, and let Mami kill us all."

"Nooooo," Sayaka frowns. "Kyuoko?"

"We strike a deal with Mami," Kyuoko says. "We kill a few more nightmares on the way there, we've got more than enough magic now, we don't need them, so we save it all, bring it to Mami as a gift. We explain what we want, no strings attached, after we give her the gift of course, make sure she knows we don't want her land. She'll listen to us, at least, if we bring an offering to her. I'm good. Not as good as her, but good. She won't want to fight us. She's not a bad person. We just need to give her a reason not to fight."

"And after?" Hitomi asks.

"After, who knows?" Kyuoko shrugs. "Maybe we can keep the alliance going? Four of the most powerful witches in the history of the world? Think of the lands we could hold! Think of the nightly take in magic!"

"Eh," Hitomi shrugs. "We'll see if I'm still alive then."

"Think of order," Sayaka says helpfully. "Witches have lived lawlessly- forever, as far as I can tell. They go around killing and stealing, and… We could stop it, with enough powerful witches. We could keep another Kyosuke from happening."

Kyuoko strokes Sayaka's hair, and smiles fondly.

"I could get behind a cause like that," Hitomi says. "We wouldn't be the first that tried that, but… If I survive killing Akemi, well, that would be a good cause to die for."

Sayaka smiles sadly.

"I just saw the news!" Jonathan leans through the door. "The president's speech was on repeat, have you…"

"We saw it," Sayaka says. She flashes him a quick smile.

"You…" Jonathan smiles. "Of course you did! They're calling you heroes! They're…" He turns to Hitomi. "They're talking about posthumously awarding Kyosuke the Presidential Medal of Freedom. I'm sorry, but I thought you would want to know."

"Thank you," Hitomi says stiffly.

"My daughter the hero!" Jonathan squeals. "You'll," he sobers quickly, "you'll be careful Sayaka, right?"

"I will protect her with my life," Kyuoko says seriously. Jonathan never expected to hear that phrase, certainly not about his mournful little daughter, but it doesn't sound odd coming from Kyuoko's mouth. He believes her, and her grim eyes.

The three witches set out in the morning. They swap cell numbers, and split up. Kyuoko buys three Bluetooth headsets, so they can always be in communication. A safeguard against a sudden strike by Akemi. It doesn't come though, even as they search around the jails and hospitals and cemeteries and all the poor neighborhoods.

CIM agents listen to their hunting chatter. Of course they do; it's not so very hard for a country like the United States to listen in on a few phone calls when it's important. Years later, CIM forms the basis of their hunting doctrine off of the recorded conversation.

"Nothing here," Sayaka is saying.

"Fuck all here," Kyuoko grumbles. "Found a gang war. Sayaka? Wanna play with the worst of humanity? Wanna force some peace down their throats?"

"Kyuoko," Sayaka groans. "Leave them be, please. Tell the cops if you have to, but…"

"Alright," Kyuoko laughs. "Alright."

"Found one," comes Hitomi's monotone voice. "Harbor. Near a warehouse. It's hunting a few dock workers."

"Kyuoko," Sayaka says quickly. "Can you teleport me? We've got to get there in time."

"Nightmares last hours Sayaka," Kyuoko begins, but Sayaka cuts her off.

"They do," she says. "But those dock workers won't."

"Right," Kyuoko sighs, uses her finding gem, and soon they're all standing around the warehouse.

"Plan?" Sayaka asks.

"Kill it until it's dead," Kyuoko says, and ruffles Sayaka's hair.

"Because that worked so well what, thirty-two years ago?" Hitomi tries for a smile, but it comes out as a grimace.

"Fine," Kyuoko grumbles. "How big is it?"

"Three eyes," Hitomi says. "Evil little fucker. It's playing with them."

"That gives us some time," Kyuoko says. "Keep your wits about you. Three wasn't so small thirty years ago."

"I know," Hitomi says. "I'll be careful. Sayaka, nothing flashy this time. It's not as big, but it's still dangerous."

"I know," Sayaka replies. "You good 'tomi?"

"Oh don't you start too," Hitomi grumbles. In a few years, CIM will introduce a doctrine where emotionally compromised witches are kept around familiar faces and sent after weaker nightmares. It helps, to stay active, and to be around your friends. "Only Kyuoko gets to call me that," Hitomi laughs.

"Sorry," Sayaka says automatically.

"Ok," Kyuoko says. "Plan is, 'tomi, you hold it still. I'll cut it up with portals. Sayaka, you're on overwatch. Something doesn't go according to plan, you're the first reaction force. Until then, concentrate on defense. Get the hummies out of the way if its safe to, but don't risk yourself."

"Right." Sayaka nods resolutely.

"Right." Hitomi nods.

The nightmare dies quickly and uneventfully. It's not weak, but two witches are more than capable of besting it with only a moderate risk. Two veterans with a third witch supporting? And flush from a very great bounty of eldritch might? The forces arrayed against the nightmare are superfluous. So it dies.

"See?" Kyuoko kicks a crate. "Easy. Just kill it to death." Hitomi snickers. Sayaka gives a relieved grin, and goes to the huddled dock hands.

"Are you ok?" She asks. They give a terrified whimper.

"What are you?" One asks.

"I'm," Sayaka scratches the back of her head self consciously.

"Oh darling," Kyuoko laughs, but it's a cheerful, with her not at her sort of laugh. "We're witches and we're here to help."

"That's," the man swallows nervously. "That's good to hear miss. Are you… Thank you for saving us miss."

"Eh," Kyuoko shrugs and blushes. Sayaka grins at her, and she shoots a panicked grin back. "Um. Any time. Ain't no thing."

"Are you… in a pact with the devil?" Another asks.

Hitomi snorts disdainfully, and gathers up the beast's eyes.

"Nah," Kyuoko laughs. She punches Sayaka's shoulder playfully. "Can't stand the fucker." She winks. Sayaka snorts.

"Are we ready?" Sayaka asks.

"Yeah," Kyuoko nods. Hitomi shrugs. "Hummies, um. Stay… not dead I guess?"

"Suave and debonair?" Sayaka snickers. "Nightmare stew?"

"I really wish you'd let that go," Kyuoko groans.

"She said that?" Hitomi snickers. "Really?you're such a boob Kyu'." They teleport to the airport. The CIM interrogates the dock hands for hours after. Not the pliers and car batteries sort of interrogation. A very nice affair. With blankets and donuts.

"Name?" The agent asks. It's obvious he's an agent. Ear piece? Black suit? Black sunglasses? Buzz cut?

"Timothy," the worker stammers. He pulls his blanket tighter about his shoulders. The agents separated them. It makes sense, he supposes, but it's unnerving.

"Timothy," the agent smiles. It's a tired smile. He looks overworked. He slides a box across the table. It says "Dunkin" on the side. The sugary smell of pastries permeates the little room. "How are you Tim. Can I call you Tim?"

"Sure, I guess," Timothy shrugs. "Don't matter to me none."

"Excellent!" The agent smiles again. He jots something down on a clipboard. "Don't mind that," the agent says. "It's protocol, you know? Gotta write everything down. Lotta power failures around them. Cameras can't be trusted. You don't mind, do you?"

Timothy shakes his head quickly.

"Right," the agent nods. "Good. Now, we've got some questions, is that ok? Not about you, we just want to know what happened."

"Uh, sure, I guess," Timothy shrugs. "I don't think you'll believe me though."

"Tim," the agent says. It sounds conspiratorial. "I was at the attack two days ago. I would believe just about anything at this point. You want to tell me it was flying purple dragons? Sure. I'll ask how big they were."

"Oh," Timothy replies. "Ok. Um. First question?"

"First question," the agent smiles. "Right. Did you notice any fluctuation in the function of technology around you during the attack?"

"Yeah," Timothy shrugs. "I guess. Phone seemed fine though."

"Really?" The agent marks down another note. "We were listening in on those girls' phones. We got nothing, from right before they got involved, to when they were talking with you. You said your phone worked?"

"Um," Timothy shrugs. "Think so? I was recording. I think I got all of it? Your other guy took my phone. Um. You're fine watching it I guess? Um. Passwords just four ones."

"Thank you," the agent smiles encouragingly. He makes another note. "Was there anything unusual in your pockets? Anything special about your phone's case?"

"Sure," Timothy says. "Lead lined case. Store said it'd keep me safe from microwaves or some shit? Kept going on about cancer. I figured 'what the hell,' am I right?"

"Hell yeah!" The agent says. Timothy barely even notices him making notes. "Got one of those for my daughter. I think people are probably too paranoid, but, well, anything for my baby girl." He doesn't have a daughter.

"Yeah," Timothy nods sagely. "So, those girls. The witches. I don't know if you're allowed to tell me? Um. They saved us, and I was just wondering… the nice little blue-haired girl and her friends, are they in trouble?"

"No," the agent replies. "I don't see why they would be. They saved you. We're not in the habit of punishing random acts of kindness. They're not in trouble, but we are, I think."

Two-hundred-eighty-and-change miles away, Detroit, two witches are fighting. Not the magical, collateral damage, sort of fight. Not an armed conflict, there isn't even shouting, but it's a fight.

"You shot children!" Madoka lets out a short sob.

"I did," Homura nods- dispassionate, Homura! It hurts more than she thought it would. She turns away from her adorable little purpose, goes back to cleaning her rifle. It hides her face, at least, and the tears sparkling at the corners of her eyes like tiny stars.

"You…" Madoka is pacing, pulling on her cotton candy hair. "Why? I just… I don't understand you anymore." She isn't loud, she's barely audible, in fact, but each word is like a knife in Homura's ears.

"You wouldn't understand," Homura has to force herself to say it.

"Then explain it to me," Madoka pleads. "Please! Give me something to work with. Anything. I love you Homura." She doesn't know that it's not true anymore. A tiny, broken, noise escapes from Homura, but Madoka doesn't notice.

"You're leaking magic," Homura says clinically.

"I don't care," Madoka shrugs. "I've got plenty. Just… Why are you doing this? What are you trying to do? Are you sure this is the only way?"

"There will be a nightmare," Homura says. "The great Brass Nightmare, they'll call it in a few years. It's strong- or it will be." Don't give too much away, Homura reminds herself. Don't vindicate yourself. "It's too strong for any one witch. Even Mami. I'm trying to stop it. Is this the only way?" Homura forces a disdainful snort. "No. There were other ways. We could have approached Kyuoko and Sayaka peacefully. Hitomi too. Hell, Kyuoko even could get Mami on board with an alliance in a few continuities. No. This wasn't the only way."

"Then why?" Madoka tugs on Homura's sleeve, but Homura can't turn. "Just tell me why. Why did you kill those kids? Why are we hurting Kyuoko? She didn't seem evil, a little rude I guess, but we hurt them so much. They can be a little rude. Why?"

"Children are not more morally significant than adults," Homura says. "Are you measuring moral worth by intelligence? Adults tend to be more intelligent. Are you measuring moral worth by amount of time remaining in their life? Well then blue whales are more valuable than any human. Are…"

"Stop," Madoka chokes out. She's on the floor now, kneeling in a broken little pile. "Please please stop. I can't hear this right now. God you shot children. What gives you the right to… No, don't answer that. I don't…"

"What gives me the right?" Homura's voice is even. It takes a colossal force of will to keep it even. "I see the future. I see everything. I am all knowing. I am God."

"You're…" Madoka sobs. "You're not… I can't… I'm leaving. I'll… I'll be back later I guess."

"Take these before you go," Homura says, holding out a handful of dull white orbs. Madoka snatches them wordlessly. They're the last of Homura's stash, but she doesn't need all that much power before the end. "Stay away from fifth street. Mami will patrol through there in an hour- fifty seven minutes."

"Sure," Madoka gives a broken nod. In spite of Homura's warning, or perhaps because of it, she goes to a little coffee shop on fifth street. Mami does not kill her.

 **AN: the server isn't actively on fire, so its a slow day in IT, so, another chapter earlier than expected. Happy belated holidays.**


	20. Chapter nineteen

**Chapter nineteen: Mami Tomoe**

"Usually, I kill witches that wander into my territory." The woman is of average height, busty, with a head of beautiful golden ringlets. Her eyes too, are a shocking shade of gold. It's the sort of face that Madoka instinctively trusts, in spite of the threat.

"Ok," Madoka says. She goes back to dissecting her croissant. Mami- who else could it be- sits smoothly at the table. She wears a short skirt, a corset, and a beret. It's an odd look, but it works for her.

"Of course," Mami says, "they're usually here to take Detroit."

"I don't care about Detroit," Madoka shrugs.

"You don't care about much, do you?" Mami asks.

"Used to," Madoka shrugs. She flicks a nightmare's eye across the table. Mami catches it reflexively, raises one perfect brow.

"Usually, this would be when we fight," Mami says. It doesn't sound cruel, just matter of fact. This is a thing that happens. "I say fight. I kill you from two blocks away, more like. You'd never even know I was there."

Madoka looks up blankly.

"Kid," Mami says. She raps the table with one manicured hand. "I'm not going to do that to you."

"Okay," Madoka shrugs.

"Wow," Mami says. "You're hurting, aren't you? Couldn't hurt a fly, poor dear."

"Are you reading my mind?" Madoka asks.

"Emotions only dear," Mami says unapologetically. "It's why you're still alive."

"Oh," Madoka nods.

"So here's how this is going to go," Mami says after a moment. "Detroit's a safe place. No one is stupid enough to come here without my permission. If whoever hurt you comes calling, they will die. That's not a boast. I will kill them. You're safe in my city. Stay as long as you need to, but don't hunt here. The nightmares are mine. You take one, you die. Understand?"

"Sure," Madoka nods. "Thanks I guess."

Mami nods, and stands. "One more thing," she says. "Doesn't matter if you're religious or not, it helps to talk to someone, and confession is always open. Give it a try. It'll help." She leaves.

Madoka finishes her meal, and wanders the streets. She doesn't see Mami following her, but she's sure that she is being watched. After a time, she comes to a church. It's an old building, brick and solid, but old. The front door is tall and oak and forbidding, but she walks up to it anyway.

The sun is going down, and the long shadows of skyscrapers are crawling across the street. Madoka wonders idly if there is anyone at the church still. Surely, they must have gone home for the night? She raises her hand, and knocks timidly. Nothing happens. She takes a step back, turns to leave, but the heavy creak of the old door drops her.

"I thought I heard something," comes a reedy voice. She turns slowly, and there stands an old man wearing a cassock. He's clean-shaven and balding. "Well," he says, and puts his withered hands on his hips. "It feels like it's going to rain later. You better come in. Don't want to get caught in it, do we child?"

"I'm not a child," Madoka says, but she steps through the dark entrance anyway. The sanctuary is long and dark. Murals cover the walls and ceiling. The pews are bathed in shadows and they look like a row of ribs, in the dim light. The altar though, is lit by a handful of dim electric lights high up in the rafters.

"Come," the priest says pleasantly. "Let's sit. My old knees, you understand?"

"Yes," Madoka replies.

"Father O'malley," he says. "Guess the Irish priest stereotype is true with this one, eh?"

Madoka cracks a smile, and nods.

"Ah!" O'malley says. "There we go! You've got such a pretty smile." He sits slowly, and pats the seat beside himself. Madoka sits slowly.

"So how do I do this?" She asks. "Father forgive me for I have sinned?"

"That's the Catholics," the priest says warmly. "I'm happy to listen though, and if you want an old man's advice, I've got plenty of that. What could a little thing like you have done that's so horrible?"

"Little?" Madoka smiles as pleasantly as she can. "I'm fifty, or will be next year, at least." There's something about her innocent, open face, and old, sad eyes, that convinces the old priest.

"What's your name dear?" The priest says after a moment.

"Madoka Kaname," she says.

"Well, Madoka," O'malley says. "Heh."

Madoka gives a short, startled, jump. "Sorry," says, when the priest raises a brow in concern. "I'm sorry. A nightmare I remember made a sound like that. I'm a bit on edge I guess."

"It's quite alright," O'malley smiles pleasantly. "So tell me Madoka, what have you done that's so horrible?"

"Too much to count," Madoka sighs. "Oh God too much."

"You shouldn't take the lord's name in vain," the priest says happily. "It's the little things, you know? He's always listening."

"I'm not sure I… I'm not sure what I believe in," Madoka shrugs.

"Fair enough," the priest laughs. "Listen to me. You came here for help, and all I can do is preach. I'm sorry." They sit, silent, for a moment. "Were you involved with a gang?" He asks after a moment.

Madoka shakes her head, her candy hair slaps the sides of her head, but she pays it no mind. "I'm… There's this girl I love." She glares at the priest, but he only smiles encouragingly and motions for her to go on. "Well, I say girl. She's over a hundred. Guess that's a bit older than 'girl.' I'm rambling. Sorry."

"It's quite all right," O'malley says.

"Well," Madoka shrugs. "I love her, but she keeps. Well, she does the most horrible things. She kills people, and I don't stop her. She lies, but I guess we all do, otherwise… She ruins people's lives. There was this ice cream shop? She built her own right next to it, and sold her ice cream cheaper, just to sabotage his store. I guess that doesn't sound as bad as murder, but it bothers me, you know?"

"It hit closer to home I think," the priest says. "You didn't know the people she killed, I'm guessing, but you did know this man?"

"I guess," Madoka shrugs. "Am I a bad person?"

"There are no bad people Madoka," the priest replies after a moment. "There are people that make mistakes, but there are no bad people. Now this girl you love? She sounds dangerous. She's a murderer. You can't stop her. But you know something? If she doesn't stop hurting you, and it's obvious that she is. Emotionally maybe, but that's abuse too. If she doesn't stop hurting you when it's so obvious that she is, I don't think she loves you."

"She doesn't?" Madoka blinks.

"Oh we hurt people we love sometimes," O'malley says. "On accident, or because we're mad, or stressed. But to hurt someone, over and over again? Love is putting someone else before yourself. You don't hurt someone like that if you love them."

"What should I do?" Madoka asks.

"That's something only you can decide," he says. "You might want to consider going to the police…"

"Oh the police can't stop her," Madoka says.

"Hmm," he says. "Well, you live with this girl?"

"I do," Madoka nods. "She used to be so wonderful. Buying me ice cream before I knew I even wanted it. Every time I was about to call her, my phone would ring. There was this one time, I ordered a pizza, got a call from the pizza company that they had to cancel. Inclement weather, and right after, my doorbell rang, and there was Homura with a pizza."

"Don't go home," the priest says. "She's dangerous. If you want to be free of her, away from all the horrible things she does, you've got to be strong. Don't go home. Leave her and never look back."

That's what she has to do, Madoka realizes. To be strong. She nods, and stands. "Thank you," she says.

"You're welcome, child," the priest replies. "You don't have to leave. There are a few beds in the back, for people that need to get out of their lives for a little while. The rule is, don't ask the others, and they won't ask you. One of the beds is yours, if you want, for a few nights, until you are ready to face your life again."

"That's alright," Madoka says. "You're right. I have to be strong. She'll hurt more people if I wait."

"Are…" The priest swallows. "Are you an angel?"

"No," Madoka shrugs. "You're not far off I guess, but no. Goodbye father O'malley. Thank you for listening. And for the advice. I don't think you'll see me again, but thanks." She leaves.

Across the city, Homura Akemi lies face down in bed. Her shoulders shake slightly, but that's the only motion out of her.

"Stay close and think happy thoughts," Kyuoko says. She squeezes Sayaka's hand reassuringly.

"Happy thoughts?" Sayaka asks.

"Nope," Hitomi grumbles. "None for me, thanks. Kyu' can you do enough happy for both of us?"

Kyuoko freezes. She drags Sayaka to a stop. "Hello?" She calls. "Tomoe?"

"What do you want?" The reply is short and echoing. "Why are you here?"

Sayaka shivers. It has nothing to do with the cold weather. "We're not here to fight," Sayaka calls down the street. "We brought a gift. Hitomi?"

Hitomi steps forward, produces a little cloth bag. She holds it up in the flickering light of a street lamp then sets it down on the pavement, and takes a quick step back. Kyuoko grabs her shoulder, and urges them all back. They retreat a dozen more paces. "It's yours," Kyuoko calls.

Mami walks slowly forward, gold hair and gold eyes, melting out of the shadows. A menacing array of muskets float in front of her. She stops, frowns suspiciously. "Last time you were here Kyuoko, you tried to kill me," she says.

"You did?" Sayaka swats Kyuoko half heartedly. "You said you leave Mami alone."

"Well I do now," Kyuoko grumbles. "We're not here to fight you, Tomoe. We just want to chat. The magic in the bag is a goodwill gesture. We're not here for Detroit."

Mami bends and picks up the bag, but the muskets never leave their targets. She straightens, opens the mouth of the bag, and tips the contents out onto her pale hand. Three pearly orbs gleam up at her.

"You must be desperate," she says. She smiles coldly. "Do you know a Madoka Kaname?"

"We know her," Kyuoko says carefully. "She seemed nice. We've got no quarrel with her. How do you know her?"

"Come with me," Mami says. She tips the orbs back into their bag and throws it back. "I'll put on a pot of tea."

Kyuoko catches the bag numbly. "Huh," she says. "I expected to be less alive right now."

 **AN: Snow day! On a somewhat more related note, I just cannot get a read on the way that Mami Tomoe speaks in the anime... there seems to be a fair deal of confidence there (which I have, in this older, "fallen" Mami, taken as arrogance) and there is a fair amount of "politeness" but that is pretty standard in Japanese culture. Other than that? No clue how she speaks. I hope she doesn't come across as too OOC, and if she does, hopefully it can be chalked up to the age, and jaded nature?**


	21. Chapter twenty

**Chapter twenty: et tu**

It's drizzling by the time they get to Mami's apartment. None of the witches pays it much mind. Mami glances around suspiciously before unlocking her apartment, and locks the door behind her when they're all through.

"I made cake," a high voice says from within. "I… It didn't come out right, but…" The short pink haired girl staggers into the living room with a very large tray and a very lopsided cake. "I wanted to thank you for… Um. Hello Kyuoko."

"Huh," Kyuoko says. "So, um. What?"

"Akemi," Mami says grimly. She sits on a plush armchair, smiles encouragingly at Madoka, points gently at her triangle coffee table. "We stop her. She's hurt enough people. We stop her."

"That's what we were coming to ask about," Sayaka says quickly. She tries to ignore the sick feeling she gets looking at Madoka. "We wanted your help."

"Yes," Mami says. She pats Madoka's shoulder comfortingly. "The cake looks delicious," she says. "Thank you. Could I ask you to put on a pot to boil?" Madoka nods briskly and retreats to the kitchen. "Didn't want to make her listen to us plotting the death of her lover," Mami explains after a moment of silence.

"So…" Hitomi frowns. "Just like that? We just show up, you give back our gift, and the notoriously paranoid Mami Tomoe agrees to a team up?"

"Madoka," Mami says. "She… I had a sister once. Long time ago. She's been dead a while. I remember when she got married. The guy, well, he beat her. Madoka reminds me of her. Doesn't look all that much like her, but they've both got that scared, too eager to please, look about them. Akemi has made herself very easy to hate. I agreed to help Madoka, and I'm not foolish enough to refuse help against a pre-cog."

"What about me?" Kyuoko asks. "I tried to kill you all those years ago. We're cool?"

Mami sits regally, like an empress, straight backed and proud, legs crossed casually. The immortal empress of Detroit. "Say sorry," she says with a slight quirk of her too-perfect lips.

"Yeah," Kyuoko shrugs. "Sure. Whatever. Sorry."

"I forgive you," Mami says.

"So that's it?" Kyuoko frowns. "Really?"

"We're cool," Mami says. The phrase sounds odd in her mouth.

"Sayaka," Hitomi says suddenly. "Can you work with Madoka?"

"She," Sayaka shrugs. "I don't think I can forgive her, but sure. Like you guys say. She's not a bad person. I can work with her."

"She is sorry," Mami says. "I know it doesn't mean anything to you. I know it won't bring back your friends, and it won't bring back Kyosuke, but she _is_ sorry for her part in things."

"I'm sorry," Madoka says, returning from the kitchen. "I'm really really really sorry." She sniffles, and her eyes tear up. "I didn't pull the trigger, but I still feel like I'm responsible. I'm so so sorry. I can never make things right, and I know that, but I'm going to try."

Sayaka shrugs. "I accept your apology," she says.

Mami nods as if that's the end of it. "Hitomi, right?" She asks. Hitomi nods suspiciously. "Hitomi, you're not in a good place. Are you going to be a liability?"

"No," Hitomi says fiercely. "After, who knows, but I'll hold together long enough to get the job done."

"Good enough," Mami says. "So, how are we doing this? She's a precog. She'll know we're coming. Sorry you're hearing this Madoka, but we can't just walk in there without a plan."

"It's fine," Madoka says. "It doesn't hurt as much as I thought it would."

"Kyuoko," Mami snaps. "You feel guilty. Why?"

"Guilty?" Kyuoko scoffs. "That's not guilt, that's…"

"You have thirteen seconds before I blow you through that wall," Mami hisses.

"I took her love," Kyuoko confesses quickly. "At the coffee shop. Before the Chicago atack. I made her stop loving Akemi."

"Jesus Christ!" Mami says. Madoka smiles half-gratefully. Hitomi shrugs. Sayaka gives Kyuoko's hand a concerned pat.

"Jesus," Mami says again. "Well, that'll be helpful now I guess."

They talk late into the night, and through until morning. Witches rarely sleep, after all, and there is much to do. Each other's strengths and weaknesses to learn, plans to lay, disguises to buy.

The next morning, they find Homura quite by accident. They're emerging from the party store, their plans half formed, when they see her. She's walking down the sidewalk, plain as day, rainwater running down her suit, bristling with weapons.

The five witches stop abruptly, and stare, then there's a mad scramble as each reaches for a mask at once. Homura grins insolently, draws a large pistol, and a pair of invisible barriers spring up around the little group. But they aren't her target.

Homura turns slowly, maintains eye contact all the while, and shoots a pedestrian. Sayaka barely notices. She yells, and hurles a long spine of ice. Homura leans casually out of the way, and then there's a rolling column of flames, and Akemi is diving away. She rolls, and comes up smoothly. Hitomi tries to pin her in place, but Homura knows what she's going to try before she does. Homura empties the magazine at Hitomi. The bullets stop in the air, but it distracts her long enough for her spell to fizzle and die.

Sayaka comes to two realizations in an instant. The first, that if Akemi is fighting, she knows she will win. The second, that Mami is gone.

There are a few dozen quiet pops, and the pavement erupts. Akemi somersaults out of the blast, sprays a rattle of automatic fire at the rooftops. Mami jumps with a slight twist, and sails gracefully through the hail of lead. A legion of long, silver, muskets appears, fires as one body, but Homura is moving again, and the brick of the party store absorbs the attack. The facade crumbles, and Homura returns fire. A lattice of yellow ribbons- of all things- catches the attack, and then Homura freezes.

Madoka is standing in the street, tears running down her pale face. Homura twitches, and turns, and remembers that she never intended to win. She fights through Madoka's arcane grip, and raises her rifle slowly- deliberately slowly.

Hitomi is advancing on her now, hands raised, expression thunderous. Rain runs down her face, darkens her hair, and drips from her chin. She replaces Madoka's shattered restraints, and gives a horrible, toothy smile.

Did she do everything she meant to? Homura's throat feels strangely tight. She glances into the future one last time, and there's Madoka. Will she be happy? Good. Homura can accept what comes next.

"Kyuoko," Homura rasps- her drained magical reserve is finally taking its toll. "Speech. Acceptance." She spits, and is surprised to see blood. "Medal of honor, there's a sniper. Not with the government. Independent. Don't let him. He kills Sayaka."

Kyuoko stands slowly. "What?"

"You killed Kyosuke!" Hitomi yells, and stomps forward. Mami passes a musket wordlessly. Hitomi raises it, points it at Homura's chest. "You carved out my heart!"

"I did," Homura says.

"I'll take yours I think," Hitomi snarls. "That's fair, don't you think?"

Homura doesn't reply. She looks at Madoka one more time instead, at her beautiful, teary, face. At her fluffy pink hair, pulled into its twin pigtails. At her small, delicate hands. Homura gives her one last smile, and turns her attention back to Hitomi. "What're you waiting for?" She snarls. Give them the image of a feral beast. That way they won't be distracted tomorrow.

There's a quiet pop. It sounds almost anticlimactic.

It hurts. Homura knew it would hurt, she was ready for it, expected it, but now that it's happening, she can't think of anything else. Homura Akemi dies less than thirty seconds later.

Sayaka stands shakily, and walks over to Madoka. She hugs her awkwardly, pats her slender back. "I'm sorry," Sayaka lies. She's not a good liar, but this time it doesn't matter. "I'm sorry," she says again. "It was necessary, I'm sure you know, but I know that probably doesn't make it hurt less. I'm sorry."

"You can come out now," Kyuoko's voice is as cold as the rainwater that runs down her back. A half-dozen black suited men and women climb bashfully from an unmarked white van. "I thought I said to stop following us. Wait, don't talk. Akemi's dead. One less monster in the world. Happy?"

"Nasty business," one of the men says. "Agent Smith. CIM. Will there be a nightmare?"

"There are always nightmares," Mami says. "Especially in Detroit. Did you think it was a coincidence that we call them nightmares?"

"I…" Agent Smith scratches his head. "So, you're the good guys? The nice witches?"

"No," Mami says. She glances wonderingly at Kyuoko. "We're the less horrible ones. We don't kill humans, at least, and we stop the nightmares, when we can."

"We're the good guys," Kyuoko laughs. "Never thought I'd call myself 'good,' but, we're the good guys." It is shocking, the number of problems that Kohara's gem solves.

Agent Smith nods like that explains everything. "So now what?"

"Now we go back to doing what we do," Sayaka says proudly. "Killing nightmares."

"One thing," Kyuoko says. "I told you not to follow us." She raises her hand, and white-hot flames lance out like a jousting knight riding furiously forward. When they clear, all that's left of the van's engine is a jagged glowing edge. "Do not follow us," she says.

"Miss witch," agent Smith begins carefully. He glances back at the smoldering van. "You know we can't do that. You represent something outside of the knowledge of the U.S. government; we have to learn more. If the… nightmare… in Chicago proved anything, it's that we need to know."

Kyuoko opens her mouth to reply, but Mami holds up her hand, and steps forward. She only comes up to the agent's chin, but the angry arrogance in her eyes, and the haughty, capable, set of her shoulders more than makes up for any height disadvantage.

"No," she says. "You say that your government needs to know more? Why? So that you can take action? What would you do? Help us fight the nightmares? Your weapons don't touch them. You need magic to stop a nightmare, and humans have none. Regulate us? How are we in need of regulation? We are proud creatures, that have vanquished thousands of nightmares without humanity any wiser. We neither need nor want your regulations."

"Just because you don't want…" The agent begins, but Mami cuts him off.

"You think we need your intervention?" She snaps. "What would you do?"

"We don't know yet…" The agent splutters, but Mami jabs him in the chest with one rigid finger.

"No more following," she says. "What gives you the right to derail these people's lives? They're only trying to help. Making do as best they can in a bad situation. Your 'Declaration of Independence' claims that all people are deserving of 'life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.' Well, your government cannot protect us from the nightmares. You cannot guarantee our lives, and here you want to impinge on our liberties? Well your Declaration also says 'that whenever any form of government becomes destructive of those ends, it is the right of the people to alter or abolish it.' If you try to violate the rights of witches, I would worry about some altering and abolishing. Trust me. Your society has functioned just fine by leaving witches alone. If it ain't broke…" She whirls pridefully, and stalks off. The other witches follow after a moment, Kyuoko carrying the corpse of Homura Akemi.

They leave behind a street, pockmarked with craters, and strewn with battered silver muskets. Crumbling shop fronts, and shattered glass.

 **AN: so, this story was marked as a tragedy, but even so, this chapter was a bit of a downer. If you want to read something in a similar style, but without the relentless (almost monotonous) tragedy, I have a fluffy little frozen romance where elsa is a dragon. its a lot more popular (about thirty times as popular!). ok, im done shamelessly plugging my own work :P**

 **also, continued thanks to folded hands, etc.**


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